


An Unlikley Ally

by Sarbear08



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale smites a clock, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Chloe Decker, BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF everyone, Character Death, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Maze just wants to stab things, Mutual Pining, RIP clock, Sharing a Bed, but the character is a clock, dumbasses in love, except Gabriel, except beelzebub, mild references of torture, no one likes Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21865033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarbear08/pseuds/Sarbear08
Summary: In the aftermath of the Armageddon-that-wasn’t, Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves spending more and more time with each other, yet they‘re still both struggling with their increasing feelings for one another. As expected, their newfound peace doesn’t last long and they make an unlikely ally when Heaven and Hell attempt to drag them back to their respective ‘homes.’
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 159
Kudos: 426





	1. Nightmares

We begin our story with an angel and a demon—two of the most unlikely friends in the universe—one who, at heart, was just a little bit good of a good person, the other deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.

“Aziraphale! _Aziraphale!_ ” Crowley’s screeches rang throughout the bookshop, bouncing off the walls and hitting the angel’s ears like a sickening punch to the gut. Aziraphale wasted no time in leaping out of bed and bounding down the hallway to the spot where Crowley was—or had been, at least—sleeping soundly on the wall. The demon was writhing on the floor, eyes scrunched shut, arms flailing madly around, as if he was trying to defend himself from someone.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, dodging an arm as he reached out for the demon. “Crowley,” he repeated, gently shaking Crowley’s shoulders in an attempt to wake him.

“Don’t…you dare…I’ll kill you all!” He hissed as Aziraphale ducked, just barely missing Crowley’s swing.

“Crowley, dear, wake up. Please wake up. You’re having a bad dream,” Aziraphale begged.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley shouted, sitting bolt upright as his widened golden eyes slowly took in the sight of the angel crouched before him.

“It’s okay,” Aziraphale said, “it was just another nightmare.”

Crowley reached out, clutching at the angel’s shoulders to ground himself. Aziraphale didn’t miss the way the demon’s eyes glistened with unshed tears or the way his body trembled as he slowly came back to reality, but much to Crowley’s relief, he didn’t mention either of the two. Aziraphale ducked his head in an attempt to give Crowley some measure of privacy as he rubbed the tears from his eyes.

“Shit,” he breathed.

“This one was worse, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale asked, nothing but concern in his voice.

Crowley sniffled and confirmed Aziraphale’s prediction with a slow nod of his head. For the last two months, since the Armageddon-that-wasn’t, Crowley had been having the most awful of nightmares—both about Heaven and Hell coming after the two of them, and about Aziraphale’s bookshop burning down with Aziraphale still in it. Crowley had never been more terrified in his life then when he thought of either of those scenarios, especially the latter. Crowley couldn’t bear to be away from Aziraphale for too long without being overwhelmed with concern for the angel’s well-being, so Aziraphale had offered to let him stay with him in the bookshop—where he’d been staying for the entirety of the last two months, never straying from Aziraphale’s side, which he clung to so closely, like a lost puppy. Not that Aziraphale minded. He quite enjoyed it, actually—not that he would ever admit it to anyone, or to himself for that matter.

“Crowley, are you alright?” Aziraphale asked tentatively, snapping the demon out of his thoughts.

“I will be. Thank you, Angel,” he sniffled.

Aziraphale resisted the sudden urge he felt to wrap his arms around the demon and never let go, and instead settled on sitting on the floor by his side. After what could have been hours, Crowley let out a long sigh.

“You should get some sleep, Angel.”

“And what about you, Crowley?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll probably just wander around the shop or something,” he trailed off.

It was blatantly clear to Aziraphale that Crowley did not want to be left alone right now, so he did what any good friend would do: he offered him hot cocoa.

“No, Angel, don’t worry about me. You need to get some rest,” Crowley insisted.

“Well, so do you,” Aziraphale said stubbornly, standing up and intending to make cocoa for the both of them. Crowley caught his hand and held fast, refusing to let go. Aziraphale turned around, mouth open and ready to argue, but when he saw the pleading look on Crowley’s face, his heart shattered into a million pieces. He couldn’t leave Crowley. He would _never_ leave Crowley, he decided in that moment.

The angel let out a long sigh, suddenly feeling quite exhausted himself. For the first time, he wished he hadn’t performed so many miracles the day before. His eyelids became heavy and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep himself awake for much longer. Crowley looked to be in no better shape than he felt: his eyelids were slowly drooping shut and he had large, uncharacteristically dark bags underneath his perfectly golden eyes, which were sparkling much less than they normally did. Aziraphale quite liked it when Crowley’s eyes sparkled.

A dangerous thought pushed its way into Aziraphale’s mind, and someone be damned, he was too tired to think of a better solution. This one would easily solve both of their problems.

“Come on,” Aziraphale said, gently pulling Crowley to his feet.

“Wha–?” the demon asked as Aziraphale continued to lead him down the hallway. Crowley had never been down this hallway before, because it was…the hallway that led to Aziraphale’s bedroom, he realized. Crowley’s eyes widened, but he was too tired to argue with the angel as he gently pulled Crowley into his room. It was a quaint room. Quite small and cozy, with bookshelves lining the walls around his bed. Crowley figured they must be filled with his favorite books.

“Angel, what in hell are we doing here?” Crowley finally found the energy to ask once they’d stopped by the edge of the bed.

“Well,” Aziraphale started, his face flushing a shade of red brighter than Crowley thought possible. “This is a solution to both our problems. We can both get some sleep, without having to be far away from each other. It might help with your nightmares. Only if you’re comfortable with it. You don’t have to–” Aziraphale said, stumbling through his words.

“It’s perfect.”

“Ah. Right then.” They both turned to awkwardly face the bed, unsure of what they should do.

“Ngh. Er. I’ll just–” Crowley motioned to the bed with one hand, the other still clutching Aziraphale’s hand.

“Of course. Of course,” the angel said, silently cursing himself for such a silly idea. He pulled back the covers on one side of the bed, motioning for Crowley to get in. The demon hesitated before crawling into the bed, reluctantly sliding his hand from Aziraphale’s. The angel carefully pulled the covers over him before walking around to his side of the bed. He slid under the covers with a sigh, making sure to keep a respectable distance between himself and the demon—the last thing he wanted was to make Crowley feel uncomfortable.

They lay there in a not-so-comfortable silence for a while, staring at the ceiling of Aziraphale’s bedroom—a place Crowley had never imagined he’d actually be in, though he may or may not have fantasized about it from time to time.

As Crowley began to drift off to sleep, he curled onto his side and snuggled as close against Aziraphale’s side as he possibly could. He slipped his fingers around the angel’s hand, grounding himself as much as possible—Aziraphale was _here._ He was _safe._ Perhaps there would be no more nightmares for the rest of the night.

******

Aziraphale woke up, as always, to the joyous sounds of birds cheerfully chirping outside his window. The bright sunlight filtered through, warming his face where it landed. But something was different. He blinked as the events of last night slowly entered his mind. He turned only to realize with horror that the other side of his bed was empty, the covers neatly replaced as if Crowley had never been there at all.

Aziraphale’s mind raced through a thousand scenarios, each worse than the last: Crowley becoming too uncomfortable and leaving the bookshop all together. Crowley having such awful nightmares and sleep-walking straight out of his room. Heaven or Hell finding them—sleeping together, no less—and dragging Crowley away to be tortured in the most unimaginable ways. Crowley being– An odd warmth settled along Aziraphale’s neck, sending shivers running down his spine. He shifted, craning his neck in order to see better, and was met with the small head of a snake resting on his shoulder. Crowley. The snake was Crowley. He must have changed forms in his sleep. Aziraphale lay there for a while longer, not willing to disturb the peaceful sleep Crowley had finally managed to succumb to.

Long after the birds had stopped their serenade, Crowley finally stirred, slithering off the back of Aziraphale’s neck and back onto his side of the bed. Aziraphale felt oddly cold with the absence of the demon’s touch.

“S–sssorry, Angel,” Crowley hissed as he slowly changed back to his human-like form.

“No need to be sorry at all,” Aziraphale assured him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, actually. Didn’t miss a wink.”

“No nightmares?”

“None,” Crowley said, a cautious grin spreading across his face. “Thank you, Angel. Truly.”

“Ah. No need. Tea?”

Crowley nodded, “that would be lovely, thank you.”

Aziraphale slid out of bed, turning to Crowley to assure him, “I’ll only be a moment,” before heading to his kitchen.

Crowley laid back, his head sinking into Aziraphale’s pillows. They were so soft. Just like Aziraphale. Sure, they had touched before, but never in such an intimate manner—besides the one time they had held hands on the bus ride back to Crowley’s flat, right after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t. All he wanted now was to curl up next to Aziraphale and sleep for millennia. He’d had no nightmares. Hell, he’d never slept so well in all his years on earth. And for some inexplicable reason, he couldn’t stop smiling.


	2. Our side

Somewhere in the abyss of the celestial universe, an angel and a demon met. In a place that was not quite Heaven and not quite Hell, but rather somewhere in-between.

“We _muzzzt_ stop them,” the demon seethed. Flies buzzed incessantly around the demon’s head, swarming it, yet keeping their distance all at once. “This hazzz gone on too long. There have been countlezzz uprisingzz in Hell.”

“Well no shit. Are we just stating obvious facts now??” the angel responded indignantly. “I’m the Archangel fuc–”

“Oh for Satan’s zzzake! We all bloody know who you are!” Beelzebub shouted, eyes rolling exaggeratedly. Speaking with Gabriel was much like attempting to hold a conversation with a door knob—and Beelzebub did _not_ fraternize with door knobs. Until now, that is. As much as the Lord of Flies didn’t want to admit it, Beelzebub needed help when it came to the demon Crawly. Crowley. Whatever he was calling himself these days. And it just so happened that Heaven was having similar issues with an angel of theirs: Aziraphale. Just their luck, the two offending parties seemed to spend almost every waking hour together, and then some.

“Gabriel, we need to deal with thizz. Now.” Beelzebub insisted, hoping the sharp tone of voice was enough to convince Gabriel of the severity of their situation and surrender his exorbitant amounts of arrogance.

“That’s one thing we can agree on, Demon,” Gabriel said, wrinkling his nose as though it pained him to admit a demon could be right about something. “But how? That damned angel walked straight into hellfire and… _lived_.”

Beelzebub paced back and forth in front of the angel, deeply lost in thought.

“Well?” Gabriel asked, clearly becoming quite impatient with the demon.

Beelzebub held up a hand, which surprisingly silenced the angel. The demon’s eyes narrowed. This angel was quite peculiar—he was certainly not like any of the other angels Beelzebub had met. This one was…different, somehow. Beelzebub’s head shook, disrupting the flies and returning all thoughts to the more pressing matter at hand.

“Thizz can’t pozzzibly be part of… _Her_ plan?” Beelzebub asked, visibly cringing at the word ‘her,’ as though the mere mention of the word might burn the demon.

Gabriel shook his head, “it can’t be. An angel and a demon. Consorting. Ridiculous,” he scoffed, clearly missing the irony of the situation.

Beelzebub had been secretly hoping Gabriel would know what the Greater Plan was, although quickly realized how foolish that was. God’s plan was most certainly ineffable. It was neither Good nor Evil—it simply was—God’s will, that is. And unfortunately, not a single creature knew what said plan was. Ridiculous. Beelzebub thought it was all absolutely ridiculous.

Beelzebub let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re no help,” the demon mumbled, taking a moment to think again. “We have to find out how Crowley conveniently gained immunity to holy water, and how Azzziraphale wazz not burned to nothing in the hell fire. I zzaw the hell fire personally, before it wazz brought it up to Heaven. There wazz abzzzolutely nothing wrong with it. It doezzn’t make any zzense.”

“So you’re saying find out what their weaknesses are, and then use that to get rid of them, once and for all?”

“Precizzzely,” Beelzebub returned Gabriel’s wicked smile. Perhaps this angel wasn’t so bad after all…

******

“More tea?” Aziraphale offered, already half out of his chair and heading towards the pot on the stove which had miraculously warmed itself by the time he’d reached it.

“No, thank you, Angel,” Crowley said before staring off into space.

Aziraphale poured himself another cup before returning to his seat.

“Crowley, dear, are you alright?”

“Huh?” Crowley blinked.

“You just…you don’t seem to be all here,” the angel said, treading carefully, as he knew the subject of feelings was not generally a good subject to attempt to breech with the demon.

“I’m just worried, is all.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale said, desperately hoping the demon would elaborate further on the matter.

“Do you really think Heaven and Hell will just…give up?” Crowley finally asked.

Aziraphale swallowed, imagining how mad Gabriel must be with him now. “No,” he said quietly. “No, I don’t imagine they will.” He paused before carefully pressing further. “Is this what the nightmares were about?”

The demon gave a quick nod. “And there’s no book anymore. No more warnings from Anges Nutter. We won’t see it coming, whatever ‘it’ may be.”

“No, I don’t suppose we will,” Aziraphale said, worry churning in his stomach. “What are you suggesting? Alpha Centauri?”

Crowley let out a soft chuckle. “And leave behind all this? Food? The bookshop? Someone should probably check up on Adam from time to time.”

“No, I suppose that won’t work, then. I mean, what if his powers come back?” Aziraphale said. It was a lame excuse really—a sheepish deflection from the true things he would miss—but neither of them questioned it. As much as they didn’t want to admit it, they quite enjoyed living amongst the humans. They had rather grown to like it; books, music, food, alcohol too, and they weren’t willing to give that up just yet. Or ever, really.

Aziraphale finally spoke again after a long moment of silence. “Well then, I suppose we’ll just have to stay on our toes. As long as we stick together, we should be just fine.”

The corners of Crowley’s lips tugged upwards as he tried to suppress a smile at the thought of spending even _more_ time with the angel. “I suppose so,” he agreed. “Our side.”

“Our side,” Aziraphale repeated.


	3. That’s going to require a few miracles

It was a normal day—well, normal until it wasn’t, but we’ll get there soon enough—only a mere few months after they had their conversation about Heaven and Hell coming back for revenge. Since then, Crowley had permanently moved in to the bookshop with Aziraphale and they spent every waking hour—and possibly every other hour—side by side, never leaving the sight of the other. To be perfectly honest, neither of them minded this arrangement very much—they found it to be quite enjoyable, actually.

They had just dined at the Ritz and were now wandering through Berkeley Square Garden, making light conversation with one another when Crowley suddenly came to a halt, glancing around the park wildly.

“Crowley, what is it?”

The demon’s tongue flicked out of his mouth, tasting the smells in the air.

“Crowley?” the angel pressed.

“I thought I–” the demon flicked his tongue through the air once more, forehead wrinkling in concentration. His eyes widened in sheer panic and in a flash, he’d pulled Aziraphale into his arms.

“Gah– Crowley! What on–” Aziraphale didn’t have time to finish his sentence before the world around them fell away, leaving only an ethereal light surrounding them.

“Sorry,” Crowley quickly apologized, loosening his grip on the angel, but not letting him go completely. His arms still remained around Aziraphale, keeping him close—not that he had much of a choice otherwise. The space around them was quite small and had barely enough room for the two of them, causing their bodies to be pressed closely together in the most inconvenient of ways. Or convenient. Depends on who you ask.

“What in _hell_ are we doing here?” Aziraphale asked.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley apologized again. “I saw _them_ ,” he said, as if that was an explanation in and of itself.

“Pardon?” the angel asked, thoroughly confused now.

“Beelzebub. And Gabriel. I thought I saw them. I could smell Heaven and Hell in the air. Angel, what are they doing on Earth?”

Aziraphale could see the fear running rampant behind the demon’s eyes, which burned a fiery golden colour—even more so than usual.

“I– Where are we, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, glancing around at the ethereal light surrounding them.

“I…I may have…erm…transported us to another universe,” Crowley admitted quietly.

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed. “This one is awfully small,” he added with a quiet chuckle.

Crowley felt his face redden a shade—he may or may not have chosen said universe on purpose.

“It is quite tiny, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

They paused for a moment, getting lost in each other’s eyes—with the close proximity it was nearly impossible not to.

Aziraphale blinked, desperately trying to clear his head.

“You think they were there…for us?” he asked gingerly.

“I can’t imagine another reason why they’d both personally be on earth.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the mass of feelings bombarding him all at once.

“I reckon if we stay here for a bit longer, they’ll be gone. We can come up with a plan when we get back,” Crowley suggested.

“Of course,” agreed the angel.

They waited a few minutes—possibly even a few hours, enjoying their escape in close proximity to one another more than they’d care to admit—before Crowley reluctantly transported them back to the park, making sure no humans saw two men-shaped creatures seemingly appear from thin air.

******

The engine of the Bentley roared as they careened down the road at a wild speed, making their way back to the safety of Aziraphale’s bookshop.

It was long since dark by the time they’d returned to earth, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure how—or if, even—Crowley could see the road. As they rounded a curve in the road, a dark figure appeared in the middle of the road.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted, pointing at the figure and clutching at his seat, as if that would help the car slow down.

“Oh, shitshitshit _shit_ ,” Crowley cursed, trying to swerve the Bentley around the dimly lit figure. He was sure he could make out the man’s face—though the glowing red eyes instantly gave away his identity—and it was _not_ a face he’d wanted to see again. Ever.

“That’s not–” Aziraphale started, suddenly feeling faint with fear, as the headlights illuminated the figure’s face, confirming their suspicions.

Normally, if someone was standing in the path of the Bentley, the car would simply swerve around them, miraculously missing them while not losing control, despite the wild speeds they were sure to be traveling at. Unfortunately, between the shock of seeing the face of this figure, and the sheer fact of _who_ he was, no miracle would’ve worked anyways.

The tires screeched as the Bentley careened off the road and bounced through the trees, narrowly missing their long branches. At the bottom of the hill, the Bentley smashed into the trunk of a particularly large tree. Crowley and Aziraphale blinked, somehow unharmed and not at all discorporated. The forest was silent save for the low hissing of the engine of the Bentley, which had started steaming slightly. Apparently, even for slightly demonic cars, running into trees at over one-hundred miles per hour was not a good thing.

“Sweet someone,” Crowley whispered, his voice wavering at the state of his precious car.

“That’s going to require a few miracles,” Aziraphale added quietly, still in shock. “Crowley, was that–?”

“Yes, yes it was.”

“Do you think he’s gone? Perhaps he’s assumed we’ve discorporated.”

“Perhaps.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, each trying to catch their breath—though they didn’t really need to breathe, but it was a comforting act nonetheless.

Suddenly, the crunching of branches filled the deafening silence that had enveloped the forest. Aziraphale and Crowley froze as a face appeared in the passenger side window. Aziraphale made a small, pitiful squeaking noise as he jumped out of his seat, practically landing in Crowley’s lap as he tried to put as much distance between himself and the man peering through the window. Surely he was here to do much worse than simply discorporate them: Satan himself. In the flesh. _Someone_ help them.

“Bloody hell, do you always drive so recklessly?” Lucifer asked indignantly.

Aziraphale blinked and Crowley’s mouth dropped open, both of them sitting frozen in stunned silence.

“Are you quite alright? Did you hit your heads that hard? Bloody hell, I’m _talking to you._ ” He snapped his fingers, trying to get their attention.

“Wha– So…just to be clear,” Crowley cleared his throat. “You’re _not_ here to kill us?”

“What? Kill you– I’m bloody well here to help you.”

“H–Help? Us?” Aziraphale asked.

Lucifer rolled his eyes, clearly getting annoyed with them. “Yes. Now will you both please get out of the car before you try to run me over again?”

“Run you over? Ngk–I–You– You were standing in the middle of the bloody road! What the hell did you expect?” Crowley shouted, momentarily forgetting who he was talking to.

“I didn’t expect you to be going so bloody _fast_.”

“Wha–I–,”

“Stop it! Stop it, both of you!” the angel shouted.

Lucifer turned his gaze to the angel, “and you must be Aziraphale?” he asked, extending his hand into the car. Aziraphale glanced at Crowley before tentatively shaking Lucifer’s hand.

“What are you doing here?” Crowley asked, clearly still confused.

“I told you, Crawly, I’m here to help you.”

“Crowley. My name is _Crowley_ now.”

“Whatever.”

“Why do _you_ want to help _us_?” Crowley asked suspiciously.

“Beelzebub was taking care of hell in my absence, but it appears the Lord of Flies has taken things a tad too far. I’ve also always hated Gabriel. Selfish prick, he was.”

“Still is,” Crowley agreed vehemently.

“And…I may have been convinced to help a…well a…fallen brother, I suppose,” Lucifer added tentatively.

Crowley’s eyes widened. “Me? You wanted to help _me_?”

“Well, I was convinced to, yes. Now shall we?” Lucifer opened the door impatiently and Aziraphale climbed off from where he was still on Crowley’s lap, and out the door with the demon following closely behind.

“Fuck,” Crowley hissed as he surveyed the extensive damage to his car.

Aziraphale appeared next to him, placing a hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, dear. Perhaps we could work on miracling it back to normal together,” he suggested.

“I’m not even sure Adam could fix this,” Crowley said dejectedly, gesturing to the smashed-in Bentley, which currently looked more like a pancake then a car.

“Come on, you two. It’s going to be a long walk back now,” Lucifer said, starting to make his way through the trees.


	4. Six-thousand years

They finally made it back to a small hotel room, Aziraphale tugging at Crowley’s sleeve the whole way there while the demon stared off into the distance, clearly mourning the loss of his beloved car for the second time that year. Besides Aziraphale, of course, the Bentley was the only constant in Crowley’s life for the past nine decades or so, and he simply couldn’t bear the thought of losing it—again.

The hotel room looked much like they had taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in hell. There was broken glass strewn just outside the door and the room itself was likely to be home to thousands—no, millions—of insects. They entered the hotel room where two women were waiting for them. One of them—a pretty blonde with soft features—jumped off the bed and ran into Lucifer’s arms.

“Lucifer! Are you okay?” she asked, hurriedly checking him over.

Aziraphale and Crowley collectively flinched, waiting for her to be smited into oblivion for touching the Devil. But no such thing happened. In fact, he seemed to _return_ her embrace. Perhaps they _had_ hit their heads when the Bentley crashed.

“It’s about time,” the other woman said, rising from the bed and twirling a knife in one hand. Her eyes widened when they landed on Crowley.

“Crawley!” She exclaimed. “Is that you? You cut your hair.”

“It’s Crowley, actually,” he mumbled before narrowing his eyes. “Mazikeen of the Lilim?” he asked, barely recognizing his old friend—as ‘friendly’ as demons would ever get, anyways.

“It’s Maze, actually,” she said, imitating Crowley’s nonchalant response. “It’s good to see you.”

“And I’m Aziraphale,” the angel said proudly, stepping forwards and extending a hand to Maze.

“Right,” Maze said, twirling her knife inhumanly fast and making no move to shake Aziraphale’s hand.

“Right,” Aziraphale whispered, dropping his hand like it had been burned, and subconsciously moved closer to Crowley’s side until the length of his body was almost pressed against him entirely.

Crowley stepped slightly forwards, subtly putting himself in-between Maze and Aziraphale. His fingers brushed against the angel’s as he moved past him—Aziraphale was almost certain he’d done it on purpose.

“Long time no see, _Maze_ ,” Crowley said, emphasizing the demon’s name mockingly. “How’s Hell been? Hell…ish. Er–”

Maze chuckled, “I haven’t actually been back there in five years or so.”

“Really?” Crowley asked. “Where have you been then? Here? On earth?”

“Yeah. And what, you’ve only been here, like thousands of years?”

“Six-thousand years, actually,” Aziraphale added. “I could be more specific if you wanted.”

“More specific?” Maze asked. “Are you going to tell me how long he’s been here down to the second?”

“Day, actually. It’s been– Oh.” Aziraphale stopped, realizing too late that Maze had only been joking.

Aziraphale could tell by the lifting of Crowley’s eyebrows that his eyes must’ve widened into orbs larger than the moon itself under his sunglasses. “You’ve been counting?” he asked, clearly stunned at the thought.

The angel gave a nod, feeling warmth flushing his cheeks. Perhaps he had revealed a tad too much.

“Ew,” Maze snarled, snapping Crowley and Aziraphale from their thoughts. “Do you guys have to do that here?”

They followed the demon’s line of sight to where Lucifer stood, now _kissing_ the blonde woman. Passionately.

Aziraphale felt his cheeks redden to what he assumed was a very deep shade at the display, and he couldn’t help but glance over at Crowley, only to find the demon was staring back at him—at least it looked like he was, it was hard to tell after all, with his sunglasses on.

“Sorry,” the blonde said, stepping back and blushing. Lucifer grinned like a dog who’d just been given a bone. Maze rolled her eyes.

“What is going on here?” Crowley finally asked. “You’re not exactly how I remembered you,” he said to Lucifer.

“Yes, well, time on earth can change a man. Or an angel. Or a demon.”

“Yes, I suppose it can,” Crowley agreed, glancing at Aziraphale once more.

“This is Chloe,” Lucifer said, pulling the woman forwards.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Nice to meet you, dear. My name is Aziraphale,” the angel said, holding out his hand. To his relief, she shook it, and he decided right then and there that he quite liked this human.

“Crowley,” Crowley said, nodding his head.

“Right then, now that that’s settled,” Lucifer started, “Beelzebub and Gabriel. They seem to be a problem for all of us. Let’s see if we can’t work together to fix that.” He gave them a predatory grin, flashing all of his teeth.

Maze smiled, twirling her knife, “I can’t wait.”


	5. Are you guys married or something?

“I don’t suppose you have a bite to eat anywhere in this hotel room?” Aziraphale asked as they all settled around the large wooden table in the corner of the room.

“We’re saving your asses and you want _food?_ ” Maze said indignantly.

“Maze,” Chloe hissed, gently elbowing the demon. Aziraphale and Crowley were shocked yet again when Maze didn’t disembowel said human. Chloe turned back to Aziraphale with an apologetic smile, “I’m sure we have something around here,” she said, rising from the table and wandering around the room in search for any edible food.

“So,” Crowley spoke, breaking the silence. “You want to help us…erm… _deal_ with Beelzebub and Gabriel. What’s your plan?”

“Well, haven’t quite got that far yet, but no need to worry,” Lucifer insisted. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Righhhtt,” Crowley hummed, clearly unimpressed. This was nothing at all like the Lucifer he remembered.

“Like I said, I could always just kill them.” Maze twirled her knife more aggressively.

“Yes, Mazikeen, we’ve been through this already. Not that simple,” Lucifer reminded her with a sigh.

“Here you go,” Chloe returned to the table and passed Aziraphale a small tin of cookies. “Sorry, it’s the only thing I could find that wasn’t moldy.”

“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale said, giving her the brightest smile he could muster, under the circumstances.

“How’d you find us, anyways?” asked Crowley.

“I’d heard of some strange things happening here in London. Figured it might be one of my idiotic brothers, so I sent Maze to investigate. She could sense both demonic and angelic presences–”

“Lot more than one, too,” Maze added.

“Yes, and she tracked both of you down, and then found out that Beelzebub and Gabriel were topside as well,” Lucifer continued.

“Yes, well, the end of the world tends to attract both demonic and angelic entities,” Crowley deadpanned.

“The _what?_ ” Chloe asked, suddenly growing alarmingly pale.

“Not to worry, darling,” Aziraphale assured her. “We’ve taken care of that already.”

Maze smirked. “Wouldn’t trust you two idiots to do anything.”

“How rude,” Aziraphale gasped.

Maze shrugged, “I’ve been watching you two for a while now, just saying. I don’t think you’re competent.”

“Well, I–” Crowley laid his hand gently on the angel’s arm, cutting him off. He gave a slight shake of his head, wordlessly ending the impending argument.

“The end of the world,” Chloe mumbled, eyes slightly glazed over. She rubbed at her temples as though she had a headache—for a human, thinking about the end of the world tended to have such adverse effects.

“Yes, well, they said they’ve got it handled, so no need to worry about that, Detective,” Lucifer assured Chloe, placing a steadying arm across her back.

Crowley let out a bored sigh. “If we could just get on with this plan, already–” The door of the hotel slammed open, nearly breaking clean off its hinges, and making everyone around the table, celestial or otherwise, jump to their feet in shock. Aziraphale’s tin of cookies was sent flying off the table, scattering the cookies across the floor amidst the confusion.

An angel stood in the doorway, his presence towering above everyone else in the room. He was a warrior—all angels were meant to be warriors, but this one was different. He was a warrior at heart—not just because God made him to be that way, but because he _wanted_ to be.

Instinctively, Crowley stepped in front of Aziraphale, not willing to let an angel drag his best friend back to Heaven, where he would most certainly be killed without hesitation. Crowley hissed at the imposing angel, baring his fangs and trying his best to look as menacing as possible—he most certainly was _not_ trembling in fear.

“Amenadiel, you’re late,” Maze seethed.

“Better late than never, I suppose,” Lucifer added.

“Relax,” Maze said, turning to Crowley, who was still shielding Aziraphale from the view of the angel. “He’s with us.”

Crowley released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His legs were suddenly about as useful as wet noodles trying to support his weight, and he swayed precariously until a comforting, familiar hand came to rest on his arm.

“Sit down Crowley, you don’t look well, dear,” Aziraphale urged, guiding him safely back to his chair.

Maze narrowed her eyes at the sight of the two of them. “Are you guys married or something?” she asked blatantly.

Crowley stuttered, making nothing but incoherent noises as he glanced nervously at Aziraphale, who looked positively scandalized.

“No,” Aziraphale quickly said.

“Ngh,” said Crowley in agreement.

“Most definitely not,” added Aziraphale.

“Nononono.” Crowley had only meant to say ‘no’ once, but his brain hadn’t quite caught up to his mouth.

“I–I don’t even know if that’s possible,” Aziraphale added, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “We might discorporate. Not that I’ve ever thought of it before,” he added quickly. But that was a lie. He _had_ thought of it before. Many, many, _many_ times. More times than he’d like to admit.

“Well, me and Amenadiel– We– You know,” Maze made a crude gesture. “So you’ll be fine. Maybe you’ll stop making those gooey heart eyes at each other.”

“Gooey heart– I beg your pardon,” Aziraphale gasped, his whole face deepening to a dark shade of red.

“I’m just saying. It’s obvious.”

“Enough,” Amenadiel’s voice boomed throughout the small room, the authority of God herself behind every sound. “We’ve got work to do.”


	6. The beginning of the end

“I zzzwear, I could feel them,” Beelzebub hissed at Gabriel. “They were there.”

“Yeah. _Were._ But they weren’t there when we were there. You must have made a mistake.”

“I made no mizztake. They were there. They muzzt have zzensed uzz coming. Who knowzzz what elze they are capable of.”

“You’re right. We have to be sneaky about this. Surprise them,” Gabriel said, a predatory grin spreading across his face.

“You have a plan?” Beelzebub asked.

“Oh yes, yes I do.”

Despite the fact that they were completely alone, Gabriel leaned forwards to whisper his idea into the demon’s ear.

“Wicked,” Beelzebub purred. “And vile. I like it, Gabriel.”

“Excellent,” Gabriel grinned as though he were a puppy receiving a treat. “I’ll meet you at the beginning, then.”

“Mmm,” Beelzebub agreed. The flies around the demon’s head buzzed louder, swarming faster with their master’s excitement. “The beginning of the end.”

******

“Care for a drink, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, holding out a bottle of wine to the demon despite the both of them being absolutely exhausted.

“We are going to need much more alcohol than that, Angel.”

They both should have slept, really. They’d left the hotel at Lucifer’s insistence that _‘everything is covered here!’_ and had spent upwards of four hours tirelessly performing miracle after miracle until the Bentley had finally been restored to her former glory.

Neither angel nor demon were designed—especially inhabiting human corporations—to perform such a multitude of miracles all at once. It was a miracle in and of itself that they were successful in fixing the Bentley to her former pristine condition.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Aziraphale agreed. With a snap of his fingers, the bottle had multiplied tenfold across the wooden coffee table.

“Should we ’ve stayed?”

“At the hotel? Heavens, no. Besides, Lucifer said they would handle coming up with a plan.” The angel sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than the demon.

“Right. Well, I have a plan,” Crowley announced.

“What is it?”

“I am going to get piss drunk.”

“Oh. Alright…S–solid plan then.” Aziraphale raised his own bottle to his lips, taking a long, much needed swig.

After a long moment of silence—which could have lasted minutes or hours, perhaps even a whole day—wherein a few bottles of alcohol may have been consumed, Aziraphale finally spoke again. “Crowley, do you think they’ve figured it out? The switching, I mean. Bodies. Us. You know.” He waved a hand wildly in the space between them on the couch, trying to get his point across.

“Must’ve. At least they think they have. Otherwise, why would they come to earth?”

“Right,” said the angel, his face falling briefly before he took a long sip of wine. A _very_ long sip—thanks to not needing to breathe, and all.

“Aww, don’t worry, Angel,” Crowley slurred. “We can deal with ‘em. Did it once before, didn’t we?”

“S–suppose so,” Aziraphale said, though Crowley’s comment did nothing in the way of ensuring him they would _both_ be alright. He was–

“Azir– ‘zira– Angel,” Crowley leaned forwards, pulling off his sunglasses and tossing them onto the coffee table. They made a _clang_ that rang throughout the bookshop as the metal arms collided with one of the emptied wine bottles. “Look at what we’ve been through together. Six-thousand years, Angel. Hell, we even survived the end of the world. We _stopped_ the end of the world. We’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

Crowley swayed—whether on purpose or from the alcohol, he wasn’t really sure—placing him dangerously close to Aziraphale. So close, in fact, that the angel could smell the wine on Crowley’s breath as it ghosted across his face, bringing out a lovely deep flush on his cheeks. If he only just leaned forwards, his lips would–

The wooden door of the bookshop was sent flying from its hinges, sending splinters soaring through the room. Aziraphale and Crowley collectively jumped backwards, immediately sobering at the intrusion. Crowley’s blood went cold—colder than it had already been, seeing as he was a cold-blooded serpent already—at the sight of Beelzebub standing in the doorway. Behind the Lord of Flies, the people in the streets of Soho went about their day: for some unknown reason, their minds were telling them to ignore the bookshop and its occupants entirely.

“Crowley,” Beelzebub purred. “And you–” Demonic eyes turned to Aziraphale. In the midst of his panic, he found that this demon’s eyes, while similar to Crowley’s, were not nearly as welcoming—he found them quite unnerving. “You muzzt be Azzzziraphale.” Beelzebub spat out his name like there was a foul taste to it.

“Beelzebub, hey!” Crowley greeted, trying his best—and succeeding, of course—to appear nonchalant and not at all worried to the point where he felt quite inclined to simply jump off a cliff. “How’re things in hell? Wonderfully–erm…hellish?”

Beelzebub did not look impressed and fixed them with a steely gaze. The flies around the demon’s head buzzed more violently. “I have come here to warn you. We will not be fooled by the likezz of you. Zzo I say this: return to your rezzpective zzides and the other will not be harmed. However, refuzze to do zzo, and the other will zzuffer the conzequencezzz.”

Darkness swarmed like maggots from the floor, engulfing Beelzebub, seemingly swallowing the demon whole. The writhing darkness retreated into nothingness through the floor of the bookshop. For exactly seventy-three seconds, neither demon nor angel spoke—they had both been stunned into silence by Beelzebub’s appearance and impending ultimatum.

“Ngk,” Crowley said, finally breaking the silence. “That’s not good.”

“I cannot believe I’m saying this, but we should find Lucifer right away.”

“Let’s go, Angel.” Crowley sauntered towards the Bentley, miracling a new pair of sunglasses as he walked.

Aziraphale followed Crowley out of the bookshop, stopping to miracle the door back into place—can’t risk having his books stolen.

“Thank goodness we managed to fix the Bentley. Crowley, you’ll have to drive as fast as you can. We’ve no time to lose.”

“Really, Angel? Are you sure?” Crowley asked, glancing at Aziraphale over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Pip pip, Crowley, we really must hurry.”

******

“It izzz done. The ultimatum hazz been delivered,” Beelzebub informed Gabriel.

“Good. And their reactions? You think it worked?”

“Yezzz. They would do any–” The demon’s nose turned up in disgust—celestials having _feelings_ for one another? Especially a demon loving an– an _angel_. Absurd. Ridiculous. Revolting. “–would do anything for each other.” Beelzebub said quickly, as though the mere thought of the words burned.

“You’re positive? This plan _has_ to work,” Gabriel insisted.

“I know what I zzaw. They were awfully clozzze when I walked in.” The demon’s head shook, startling the flies for a moment before they began buzzing again.

“Disgusting. An angel and a demon. Consorting.”

“Truly revolting,” Beelzebub agreed.


	7. We could just kill them all

“Beelzebub did _what_?” Maze screeched, stabbing her dagger into the wooden table.

“Damn it,” Chloe turned to Lucifer. “Looks like they’re one step ahead of us.”

“We need a plan they’ll never see coming,” Lucifer agreed.

The room erupted into chaotic noise, celestials talking over one another, each trying to make the other see their idea was best. Where they sat on the edge of one of the beds, closest to the wooden table, Aziraphale scooted closer to Crowley—a motion that only Chloe caught out of the corner of her eye.

“I have an–” She was cut off by Maze shouting, “Or we could just kill them all!!”

To which Amenadiel replied, “no one needs to die, Maze.”

“Guys, I have an id–”

“We don’t bloody need to do that.” It was Lucifer who’d interrupted her this time.

Chloe sighed, and using her best ‘mom’ voice, she shouted as loudly as she could, “SHUT UP!”

The room fell silent almost instantly. Even Crowley, who hadn’t been talking at all, had flinched beside Aziraphale as Chloe’s words cut through the air.

“I have an idea,” Chloe repeated.

“Yes, darling?” asked Lucifer.

“Why don’t they–” she gestured towards Aziraphale and Crowley, “–stay here until we figure out what to do. That way we can protect them, if need be. Just until we can figure out a plan that will actually work.”

Amenadiel nodded, “that’s a great idea, Chloe.”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“Alright, then,” Lucifer said, turning to where Aziraphale and Crowley still sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s settled. You’ll stay here, and we’ll be like– Your own personal celestial bodyguards.”

“Strength in numbers, as they say,” Aziraphale agreed. Crowley nodded.

“Excellent, that’s settled then.” Lucifer turned to Chloe. “Then you’re not staying here.”

“Lucifer–”

“It’s too dangerous, Detective. Plus, you make me vulnerable. The Devil himself. Can’t have that, now, can we?”

Chloe let out a long sigh. “Fine. But I’ll be as close as possible.”

“Agreed.” Lucifer paused. “Thank you, Detective.”

“I would very much like to pick up some things from my bookshop, if I’m to stay here for awhile,” Aziraphale announced.

“I’ll take you, Angel. I’d like to water my plants too, and– Erm– Make sure they’re growing all right.” Crowley said—he definitely didn’t mean he was going to yell at them, just for good measure while he was away.

“Thank you, dear.”

“Hold on. No one is going anywhere. What the hell happened to sticking together and all that?” Maze asked.

“She’s right,” Amenadiel said. “It’s too dangerous to go back, especially alone.”

“I’ll go with them,” offered Chloe.

“Absolutely not,” Lucifer said.

“Lucifer,” Chloe said admonishingly. “I’ll be fine, plus I’ll be nowhere near you, so no vulnerability.”

“Detective–”

“I’ll take Maze with me.”

Lucifer let out a long sigh. “Fine. Mazikeen, she better come back without a scratch.”

“Lucifer, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Detective– ” Lucifer let out a sigh. “Do be careful.”

“Always,” Chloe agreed.

Lucifer pulled Chloe in for a quick kiss, causing Crowley to raise his eyebrows above the rim of his sunglasses. He would never understand how the Devil himself had become so full of affection, and for a _human_ , no less.

Crowley and Aziraphale slid into the Bentley, leaving Chloe and Maze to squish into the backseat together. They drove back to the bookshop serenaded by Johann Sebastian Bach’s _‘Don’t Stop Me Now.’_

******

“Wow,” Chloe breathed as they entered the bookshop. “This is all yours?” she asked, turning to the angel.

“Yes, it is. I take great pride in my collection,” Aziraphale grinned brightly. “Feel free to read whatever you like.”

“Thanks,” Chloe said, running her finger down a row of books.

Maze rolled her eyes. “Let’s just get what you need and get back to the hotel. The longer we’re here, the more vulnerable we are.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, wandering off to begin collecting some of his favorite books.

“Well, I’ll just pop on over to my flat, if that’s alright, and check on my plants, then.” Crowley made for the door, but Maze was faster, stepping in his path.

“No way. You’re not going alone.”

“No offense, but I really don’t want to go with you,” Crowley said matter-of-factly.

Maze sneered. “Likewise.”

“I’ll go,” Chloe said, jumping in-between the two demons before they had a chance to start a full-on brawl in the middle of the bookshop.

“Fine,” Maze said begrudgingly. She turned back to Crowley. “You better not let anything happen to her, or you’ll have Lucifer’s wrath to deal with.” She flashed Crowley a wide grin, then stalked off to the back of the bookshop to find Aziraphale.

“Thanks,” Crowley mumbled, barely audible. “Ready to go?”

“Don’t you– uh– Don’t you want to say goodbye, to your– um– boyfriend?” Chloe guessed.

Crowley was grateful that his sunglasses hid how his eyes widened suddenly.

“Boyfriend? No– Ugh– We’re– Ngh– Just– Uh– Friends,” Crowley stumbled through his words.

“Oh, my mistake. Sorry,” Chloe quickly apologized. _Sure. Friends who call each other ‘dear’ and ‘angel?’_ she didn’t say.

As if on cue, Aziraphale walked into the room trailed by Maze, looking much like a frightened deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. “Crowley?” he asked. “You’re leaving?” He said it as though it had an entirely different meaning.

Chloe grabbed Maze and pulled her into the back corner of the bookshop, pretending to be suddenly very interested in the books of that particular section.

“I– I’ll be right back, Angel,” Crowley assured him. “Just going to water my plants. Can’t have them wilting while I’m away.”

Aziraphale gave a nervous chuckle. “Of course, my dear. It’s just–”

“Yes?” Crowley encouraged.

“Well, I– It’s dangerous Crowley. Do be careful.”

“Aw, I’m a demon, I’ll be fine, Aziraphale.”

“I know, just promise me.”

“Promise what?”

“You’ll come back safe and sound. I– Well, I– We’ve been spending a lot of time together recently, and– Well, I suppose what I’m trying to say is that it would be awfully boring without you here.”

Crowley was once again thankful for his sunglasses—his eyes had practically started glowing, emitting all kinds of ethereal light.

“I promise, Angel.” He paused before adding, “this isn’t goodbye, you know, yeah?”

To Crowley’s surprise, Aziraphale’s voice broke as he said, “then why does it feel like it?”

“Oh Angel,” Crowley whispered, and before he could even blink, Aziraphale was in his arms. If Crowley’s brain were a computer, it would have certainly short-circuited. He blinked a few times before wrapping his arms around the angel and returning the embrace. He wasn’t going to mention the wetness leaking onto his shoulder.

They had never—not once in six-thousand years of friendship—hugged. Hell, they barely even touched one another. Crowley had imagined this since the day he met Aziraphale, but nothing in his wildest dreams could have prepared him for this. This was _real._ He was _hugging_ his Angel, and he was oh so soft. Crowley felt as though he could just melt into Aziraphale’s arms and be more than content to stay there forever.

All too soon, Aziraphale reluctantly pulled back, furiously wiping at his reddened eyes. “Be careful Crowley.” He gave his hand a tight squeeze before retreating to the back of the bookshop.

Crowley surely would’ve stood there for _years_ if Chloe didn’t come over to him and lay a hand gently on his arm, pulling him out of his trance.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Ngk,” Crowley replied, turning and heading out the door, sauntering slightly less than normal as he headed to the Bentley.


	8. For the love of Satan

It was odd, Crowley thought. Being away from Aziraphale for so long. Or at all, really. They’d been so delightfully close since the failed apocalypse, never leaving the sight of the other. Being so far from Aziraphale now made him…nervous. It took every ounce of his self-control not to bolt out the door and speed back to the bookshop—and Aziraphale—at a breakneck speed in the Bentley. He vibrated awkwardly on the spot, his human form barely able to contain his divine nervous energy.

His nightmares came back to him in an unbidden rush, hitting him like a slap to the face: what Heaven would do to the angel if they figured out the body swap stunt they’d pulled. Heaven and Hell alike would look like fools—not that they were anything less—and would subsequently be furious. Discorporation seemed like a walk in the park compared to the things Hell would do to Crowley. Even more so, he feared, than what Heaven would do to Aziraphale.

“Are you alright?” Chloe asked, worry etched across her soft features.

Crowley sneered. “’m fine.”

“You– You’re shaking.”

“I said I was fine,” Crowley growled, stalking off to tend to his plants—and perhaps yell at them a little more than was necessary.

Chloe wandered around the flat, taking a particular interest in the ornate, throne-like chair in what appeared to be the main living area. She ran her fingers across the gold detailing, contemplated sitting in the chair, then decided better of it. She settled on wandering around the room instead: considering demons were supposed to be experts of greed and desire, this one didn’t seem to have any interest in the sort. He had very few material possessions from what she could tell. Instead he had…plants. Which he– yelled at? No, that couldn’t be right.

Chloe crept closer to the door Crowley had gone through, lightly placing her ear against it. Sure enough, she heard shouts coming from the other side, except they only appeared to be originating from the demon himself. Perhaps hell had come back for him? He might be in incredible amounts of danger.

With a deep breath, Chloe drew her gun, swinging the door open and jumping into the room.

“What the hell is this?” Crowley asked annoyedly. He narrowed his eyes at the intruder. “And put that gun away. Won’t do any good.”

Chloe failed miserably in stifling a gasp. “Your eyes.”

“Bloody hell,” the demon mumbled, fumbling around the room for a moment before sighing dramatically and miracling a new pair of sunglasses into existence. “That’s why I can’t go around without the glasses. Bloody humans can’t handle a shred of divinity without going mad.”

“I– I’m not mad,” Chloe said. “Just shocked. I guess I wasn’t expecting– well, _that_.”

Crowley’s eyebrows snuck up in surprise for a moment before he schooled his expression into that of nonchalance once more.

“You’re different,” he noted. “Not like most humans.”

“Dating the Devil will do that,” Chloe mused.

“You really are? Dating him?”

“Yeah.” A grin slowly spread across Chloe’s face.

Crowley shook his head. “Huh. Never would’a guessed he’d be the dating type.”

“Me neither, to be honest.” Chloe cleared her throat. “And you and Aziraphale–?”

Crowley hissed, grateful that his sunglasses hid his eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish with my plants.”

“Right, sorry.” Chloe stepped out, shutting the door behind her.

******

Crowley let out a long sigh. After trying for thousands of years to push down his feelings– Something was wrong. The demon’s tongue flicked out, smelling the air. Past the rich, floral scents, Crowley smelled something…demonic. He burst through the door only to stop dead in his tracks: Chloe was whimpering in Beelzebub’s grip, eyes round with terror.

“Beelzebub,” Crowley greeted, leaning against the doorframe and trying to appear as casual as possible. He was, in some way, relieved—if Beelzebub was at his flat, then it meant the demon couldn’t be harming Aziraphale.

“Crowley. Fraternizing with humanzzz now, too?” Beelzebub buzzed. “How dizzappointing.”

“Shut up,” Crowley said, hoping to Someone that Beelzebub wouldn’t notice how his voice trembled as he spoke.

“Now, izz that anyway to zzpeak to your bozz?” the demon purred.

“Former boss. Remember? The whole bathtub of holy water thing?” Crowley waved his hands around animatedly. Beelzebub shrunk back slightly at the mention of holy water. The movement was so small, Crowley barely even noticed.

“You’re right to be afraid of me,” he said, taking an intimidating step forwards, hoping to scare the Lord of Flies enough to make Beelzebub leave.

“Not another zztep, Crowley.”

Chloe shrieked as Beelzebub’s grip tightened around her arm, pulling it further behind her back in a position that looked like it shouldn’t have been possible at all to reach while her arm was still attached to her body. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but Crowley thought she managed to maintain her composure quite well, all things considered. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to speak, but for some reason unknown to him, he felt empathy towards this human.

“Stop. Beelzebub, for the love of Satan, stop.”

Beelzebub grinned wickedly and the flies buzzed around the demon’s face delightedly. Chloe’s face pinched in pain as the Lord of Flies pulled her arm even further into a sickeningly unnatural position. Her eyes were a cold, steel blue and blood trickled down her chin from where she’d bit into her lip.

“Beelzebub,” Crowley warned. He picked up his plant spray bottle, moving slowly, so as not to startle the demon into snapping Chloe’s arm clean off.

“Don’t think that trick will fool me. Hazztur told me all about that little zzstunt you pulled.”

“Feeling lucky, are we?” Crowley asked, taking aim.

Chloe’s expression softened slightly as Beelzebub took a cautionary step backwards.

“I don’t need to feel lucky. We know you, Crowley. You may be able to withzztand holy water.” The demon paused. “But you do have a weaknezzz.”

“Oh?” Crowley asked. Beelzebub had said ‘we.’ The Lord of Flies was not known for working well with others.

“The angel.”

Shit. Crowley’s blood ran cold—colder than it was already, anyways. They knew. About the body swap—everything. They knew _everything_. Crowley decided they were well and truly fucked now.

“Don’t think we haven’t noticed, Crowley. You zzpend all your time with… _him_ ,” Beelzebub continued.

“Ye–yeah,” said Crowley. That had not been what he was expecting.

“Zzzomehow you may be immune to holy water, but you are not without weaknezzz. That angel izzz your weaknezzz,” Beelzebub buzzed.

“Oh. Er. Ngk,” Crowley stammered. Maybe there was some form of hope for them yet. It certainly didn’t seem like Beelzebub had any notion of the body swap they’d done. Emboldened by this, Crowley took another step forwards.

“Why are you here, Beelzebub? You don’t scare me.”

The demon shied backwards, keeping a sensible distance from the spray bottle Crowley was wielding like it was a weapon of mass destruction—it was such for demons, after all.

“I am not who you should be zzcared of, Crowley.” Beelzebub grinned manically. As if on cue, the door to Crowley’s flat burst open, revealing the archangel Gabriel. It should be noted that an angel of Gabriel’s status only directly comes to earth for matters of the utmost importance—take the Virgin Mary, for example.

Strangely enough, of the three of them in the room, Beelzebub seemed to be the most distracted by Gabriel’s wings. The bright white feathers arched so high, they brushed against the roof, emitting a golden, ethereal light.

Chloe saw Beelzebub’s lack of attention as an opportunity which she immediately acted upon. She wrenched her arm from the demon’s grasp and tackled the Lord of Flies to the ground. Before Crowley could even register what was going on, a bolt of lightening cut across the room, instantly transporting Gabriel to the demon’s side. Faster than Crowley could have said ‘bless it,’ Gabriel had knocked him out cold.

Meanwhile, Beelzebub and Chloe were locked in a fight in which Chloe was steadily winning, though the demon would never admit that.

“Enough,” Gabriel commanded. “We don’t need her. We’ve got what we need. Let’s go.”

Beelzebub landed a final punch to Chloe, knocking her squarely in the jaw and sending her stumbling backwards and landing in a boneless heap on the floor. The demon sneered before being swallowed by shadows and receding into the ground. With a flash of lightning, Gabriel was gone, taking Crowley with him.


	9. Gone

“Oh my,” Aziraphale gasped, straightening up from where he’d been packing a box of books. “Something’s wrong.”

“What?” Maze asked. She twirled her knives, instantly ready to stab whoever needed to be stabbed.

“Something’s wrong,” the angel repeated. He couldn’t _feel_ Crowley. Aziraphale had been able to feel Crowley’s presence ever since they met, just as Crowley could feel his. But to the angel’s shock, Crowley’s presence had disappeared from the earthly plane altogether.

“What is it?” Maze demanded.

“He’s gone,” the angel muttered. “Oh good Lord, he’s gone.”

“Who?” Maze snapped.

“We have to go. Now.” Aziraphale’s wings snapped into reality, sending a loud popping noise echoing throughout the bookshop that could have certainly been heard from the street.

Without a question, Maze did her best to awkwardly arrange herself in the angel’s arms. With a single beat of his wings and a slight miracle, they flew straight through the roof of the bookshop, soaring up into the azure sky.

******

With the use of another miniscule miracle, Aziraphale and Maze flew straight down through the roof and into the main room of Crowley’s flat. Seeing as it had been quite a long time since Aziraphale had actually flown anywhere—flying was considered too indulgent for angels—their landing was less than graceful. Maze somehow managed to land on her feet, much like a cat would, while Aziraphale landed in an inelegant, boneless heap on the floor.

“We’re too late,” the angel whispered. He was still able to feel the remnants of a demonic presence that was most certainly not Crowley’s.

Maze ignored him, stalking around the flat, knives twirling like pinwheels in her hands and a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Chloe?” she called out. “Damn it Chloe, are you here?”

A thump from the adjacent room instantly silenced both of them, save for a soft gasp of, “Crowley,” that left the angel’s lips before he could stop it.

Maze raised a single finger to her lips as she crept towards the door, knives ready, like an animal waiting to pounce on its prey. She flung the door open only to find Chloe in a heap on the floor.

“Chloe!” Maze exclaimed, dropping her knives with a clatter and falling to her knees beside her best friend. “Chloe,” Maze repeated, shaking her shoulders in an attempt to wake her.

If Aziraphale had a heart, it would have stopped beating in his chest at the sight: Chloe’s face had a multitude of cuts and scrapes across her delicate features, and the skin around one eye had darkened into a deep shade of plum. If this was what they did to a human, what would they have done to Crowley? Much worse for certain. Perhaps they even– It would explain why Aziraphale could no longer feel Crowley’s presence.

The angel backed away unsteadily, all of it becoming far too much for him to handle. When a flower pot swayed and fell to the floor with a crash, Aziraphale barely heard it above the ringing in his ears. Crowley was dead. Crowley was dead. _Crowley_ was _dead_.

“Aziraphale–? Aziraphale?” Maze’s voice echoed straight through his head, in one ear and bouncing straight out the other. He felt as if he were in a dream. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Crowley couldn’t be–

Aziraphale’s head snapped violently to the side, his cheek suddenly burning with the intensity of a thousand fires. He pressed his hand against his skin where Maze had slapped him, trying not to let the hot tears fall from his eyes—whether they were from the physical pain or the thought of what had happened to Crowley, he wasn’t sure.

“Aziraphale?” Maze asked. “Are you with me here?”

The angel blinked a few times, then took a sharp breath before saying, “How rude.”

Maze rolled her eyes. “Yep, he’s back,” she grumbled before gesturing to Chloe, still lying on the floor, eyes shut as though she were lost in a peaceful sleep. “A little help here.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” the angel said. “She’s not–?”

“Dead?” Maze supplied. “No, I just can’t wake her up.”

Aziraphale kneeled down next to Chloe, gently taking her hand in his. With a wave of his other hand, her eyes fluttered open.

“Chloe!” Maze had her wrapped in a hug in an instant.

Chloe groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and clutching at her temples. With another wave of his hand, Chloe opened her eyes experimentally, and finding that her massive headache had completely subsided, left them open this time.

“Are you okay?” Maze asked her with a worry that never should have been in a demon’s voice, yet Aziraphale found that he’d heard a similar tone countless times in Crowley’s voice. _Crowley_ _._

“Where is he, dear?” the angel asked.

Chloe’s deep blue eyes turned to Aziraphale, as if she was just registering his presence. Her lengthened silence told him more than he wanted to know.

“They took him,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve fought more. I should’ve–”

She stopped when Aziraphale took her hands in his own. “Not your fault, dear,” he said sadly.

He rose and left the room. He felt so empty, so _alone_. Crowley had been the only creature who’d ever understood him—who’d _wanted_ to understand him. And now, he was gone.

******

“My my,” Gabriel purred, his voice as sharp as a million knives cutting through the air. Crowley’s feet burned on the holy floor as he struggled against the chains the archangel had bound him with. If he had to admit it, this was certainly not how his fantasy of being chained up by an angel had gone. For starters, this was the wrong angel, and–

“Struggling won’t help you, demon,” Gabriel sneered.

Panic surged through Crowley at the direness of his situation, but he pushed it down as best he could. “I’m sure it won’t. Never hurts to try though, eh?” Crowley was impressed with himself at how impartial he sounded even though he would every much like to spread his wings, fly down to earth to collect Aziraphale, and go live on Alpha Centauri for the rest of his existence.

“This could all be over,” Gabriel said, gesturing to the small, white room surrounding them that radiated holy light. If Crowley looked at it for too long, his eyes began to burn. “All you have to do, is admit one teeny tiny little thing.”

“Fine,” Crowley sighed, a look of pure resignation crossing his face. “I’ll admit it.” He wasn’t really sure what ‘it’ was, if he was being honest. “I’ll admit just how much of a self-centered prick you are. I’ll admit how much I’d really like to punch your smug face. I’ve wanted to punch you ever since–” Crowley paused, barely stopping himself from finishing his sentence and saying _‘you were prepared to kill Aziraphale without so much as a trial.’_ If he went around saying such things, then the ruse would most certainly have been up. To his surprise, though, it seemed like Gabriel knew nothing at all about the entire body swap situation—he certainly would have been gloating about it already if he’d figured it out.

“Oh Crowley,” Gabriel said, voice full of mock empathy. “It could’ve been so easy.”

In a flash, Gabriel was suddenly at Crowley’s side, giving the demon no time to react. Before he knew it, his face was pressed against the ground, being burned by the holiness. Crowley clenched his jaw, refusing to scream. He writhed against Gabriel’s grip, but the angel was stronger than him. His vision blurred as the pain grew, and he was almost sure he could feel the flesh melting off his cheek. Unfortunately for Crowley, consecrated ground in a church on earth was not at all similar to the completely holy ground Heaven was built on. Somehow, it seemed to burn worse than the fires of hell when he’d first fallen. He wasn’t entirely sure how long it took, but eventually, he blacked out.

******

“Chloe!” Lucifer gasped, running to her side and gently helping her to the bed.

“What happened?” Amenadiel asked.

“I’m fine,” Chloe insisted, trying to push Lucifer away as he intently checked her over.

“You’re not fine, Detective.” Lucifer turned to Maze, red sparking in his eyes. “I told you to keep her safe.” His voice boomed throughout the small hotel room with the same authority he used when commanding the legions of Hell, making everyone—angel and demon alike—shrink into the shadows in hopes of being forgotten.

“ _Lucifer_ ,” Chloe said, tugging at his arm until she managed to draw his eyes back to hers. The red was almost immediately extinguished. “ _I’m fine._ ”

“You’re not bloody fine, your face–” Upon seeing the look on Chloe’s face, Lucifer reluctantly drifted off—it wasn’t like she’d never been through anything worse, he supposed, though it did little to comfort him.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, and with a swift motion similar to that of pulling the string on a lamp, the cuts and bruises left Chloe’s face. “Excuse me, Mr. Lucifer, sir,” the angel said, stumbling over his words. “It seems hell has taken Crowley, and we must not waste another second. He could be– Well, he could be in trouble.” _He could be dead,_ Aziraphale didn’t say.

“He’s right, brother,” Amenadiel chimed in. “Hell has not been known for its leniency.

“Fine,” Lucifer grumbled reluctantly. “I’ll pop down and see if I can find him. _Alone,_ ” he added upon seeing the look on Aziraphale’s face.

Amenadiel had also seen the look, instantly recognizing it as that of a warrior—something which all angels truly were, deep down. “For _his_ sake,” Amenadiel said, “you must stay here.”

After a moment’s hesitation Aziraphale nodded grimly, knowing all too well that the presence of an angel in hell would only serve to cause more trouble.

“I won’t be long,” Lucifer said, pressing a chaste kiss to Chloe’s lips before unfurling his wings.

Lucifer would bring Crowley back shortly, they just had to wait. Be patient. Aziraphale fidgeted—patience had never been one of his virtues.


	10. Together

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut, willing the intense holy light away. He sat slumped on the ground, wrists bound tightly behind his back. Being of divine nature, the chains burned his skin, feeling as though thousands of flames were licking at his wrists, taunting him. The skin where his legs met the holy ground had stopped burning what was likely hours ago, having gone numb from the intensity of the pain. The demon’s senses were dull and his head throbbed like nothing he’d ever felt before—that was what Heaven would do to a demon, he supposed.

Suddenly, a door slammed in the distance, making the chains rattle as Crowley was jolted back to reality. A small break in the relative shape of a doorway appeared in the light being emitted from the walls, and Crowley braced himself, preparing for whatever torturous activities Gabriel had planned for him this time. Yet, as the figure rushed towards him, there was something all too familiar about the way it moved–

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, dropping to his knees next to the demon.

“A–A…zira…phale?” Crowley croaked.

“Yes, yes it’s me, dearest,” the angel— _his_ angel—murmured. “It’s alright, I’m here Crowley.”

Crowley let out a long breath, “thank Someone,” he breathed.

Aziraphale gave him a small smile that uncharacteristically didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What have they done to you, Crowley?” he asked, looking over the demon.

“I’ll be alright, Aziraphale,” Crowley insisted. “But we’ve got to get out of here. Gabriel could come back any second. Do you know what he’ll do if he finds you in here, helping me?”

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed—with what, Crowley wasn’t entirely sure. Was it fear? Of Gabriel? Or of _him?_ Crowley blinked. Perhaps he’d simply imagined it. Staring at ethereal light for hours—perhaps days—on end couldn’t possibly be good for demonic eyes.

“It would be worth it for you, dear,” Aziraphale said.

“Ngk,” said Crowley, along with a string of positively incoherent syllables.

A long moment of silence passed as the weight of Aziraphale’s words sunk into Crowley’s mind. “What are you saying, Aziraphale?” Crowley whispered, his words barely audible.

“I love you.”

The words cut through Crowley like the blades of a blender, mixing up his insides and turning him into a puddle of gooey mush. How he wished this could be real, but something was very, _very_ wrong. Aziraphale hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes once. Not _once_ since he’d entered the room.

“No,” Crowley managed to choke out.

“What?” the angel asked, drawing back slightly.

“Quickly, untie me,” Crowley urged.

“I–” Aziraphale stammered.

“Help me, Aziraphale,” Crowley pressed.

“But– Well I–”

“Bloody _hell_ ,” Crowley cursed. “ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed.

Stupid. He was such a stupid demon. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ How could he have mistaken _him_ for his Angel? Had he not been bound, Crowley would have seriously considered kicking himself.

Aziraphale’s face turned into a twisted smirk, his eyes flashing purple before Gabriel stood before him.

“Oh well, it was worth a try. What’s the matter, Crowley? Did you really think that cowardly, poor excuse of an angel would risk his life to rescue _you?_ ” Gabriel crooned.

Crowley hissed violently in the general direction of the angel.

“Calm down, demon,” Gabriel said with a chuckle. “You know, I’ve been told I have a very calming effect. An aura, if you will, of calming…ness– I’m calm.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. Gabriel was about as calming as waking up to find one-hundred ducks dancing in your bedroom.

“Come now, demon. No hard feelings, right? Just doing our jobs.”

Gabriel laughed as though he’d told a joke that no one else had understood. Perhaps he had.

Crowley hissed again, making sure to sound more menacing this time. Gabriel laughed again and it was a sickening, disturbed sound. Crowley clenched his fists so tightly he could feel where his nails cut through the flesh of his palms. Far away, somewhere in St. James park, a duck drowned. Nobody seemed to notice.

Crowley decided that, for lack of a better word, he would simply tell Gabriel to fuck off and let him go home, thank you very much. Unfortunately, for Crowley, one’s plans rarely work out the way one hopes for them to. Before he could even open his mouth to speak, Gabriel had lunged forward, striking the demon.

Crowley heard the chains rattle as he fell to the floor, the holiness burning him where his body touched it. He saw stars dancing across his vision—funny, that was: he’d created those stars—before he blacked out.

******

Aziraphale paced back and forth across the slightly rotten wooden floor of the hotel room—he was sure to wear a hole right through the boards if he continued for much longer. For the hundredth time, Chloe checked the time on her phone. Maze absentmindedly twirled her knives in her hands. Amenadiel sat at the table, attempting to read the same page of the newspaper he’d been staring at for the past thirty minutes.

Aziraphale let out a nervous sigh. “Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

“Maybe you should go check on him,” Chloe suggested to Amenadiel, who solemnly shook his head.

“I’m sure Lucifer is fine. He can handle himself. He is the ruler of Hell, after all,” Amenadiel pointed out.

“But what if something’s gone wrong? Crowley could be–” Aziraphale’s voice broke and he resumed his worried pacing in a slightly more panicked fashion than before.

“He should have taken me,” Maze mumbled, almost inaudibly.

A few more minutes past in silence—although as far as everyone was concerned, it may have well been a few years.

The silence was well and truly broken when Maze’s knife shredded through Amenadiel’s newspaper and lodged into the table with a loud _thunk_.

“Take me. Now,” Maze demanded. “I’m not waiting any longer.”

“Maze–”

“Now.”

“Mazikeen, I’m not–”

“You don’t know what’s going on down there,” Maze insisted. “He might need help.”

“Oh my,” Aziraphale said, brows furrowing in concern. “Maybe we should pop on down and take a peek.”

“ _You_ are not going anywhere– And neither am I,” Amenadiel thundered, standing up so quickly that his chair went flying backwards, leaving a large dent in the wall. “Remember, time passes differently down there. I am sure he’s fine. Besides, you both know what would happen if an _angel_ just showed up down there. All…well all hell would break loose. Metaphorically, I suppose, but still.” Maze rolled her eyes dramatically.

As if on cue, there was a _whoosh_ and a loud thump against the door, causing everyone to freeze. Maze pried her knife from the table before slowly stalking towards the door, Amenadiel on her heels.

Aziraphale felt a hand wrap around his and looked down to find it belonged to Chloe. Her face was alarmingly pale with worry, so he quickly sent a small, comforting miracle in her direction.

The door of the hotel creaked as it opened, revealing Lucifer. The grim look he wore on his face spoke volumes, and if Aziraphale actually had a heart, it certainly would have stopped beating in his chest. Without hesitation, Chloe rushed into Lucifer’s arms, holding onto him as if her life depended on it.

Aziraphale peered past them in the doorway, looking hopefully for Crowley. The angel was half expecting the demon to be standing behind Lucifer, a smirk on his face, and make some form of sarcastic comment before sauntering into the room as if nothing at all had happened. But something _had_ happened, and Crowley _wasn’t_ standing behind Lucifer, and everything was _wrong._ They were supposed to be _happy_ after stopping the Apocalypse. They were supposed to be _together._ ‘Our side.’ But here he was, alone. Tears prickled at the edges of his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

If Lucifer, King of Hell came back without Crowley, then that could only mean one possibility: Crowley was dead. They had been too late. Crowley had counted on Aziraphale and he’d _failed_ him. He’d failed his best friend, his– well, his more-than-best friend, because that’s what they were, weren’t they? More? Six thousand years­—of friendship, loyalty, trust—would tend to do that. That was what they _were,_ at least. Because Crowley was– Crowley was… Aziraphale’s vision blurred, either because he was about to pass out or from tears. It was more likely the latter, seeing as angels don’t normally faint. Then again, angels don’t normally spend upwards of six-thousand years on earth.

Aziraphale and Crowley had stopped Armageddon together. Perhaps the world hadn’t been worth saving after all, seeing as Aziraphale wasn’t able to share it with Crowley, the one person—demon, rather—who truly _mattered_ and– Oh my. He was having one of those—what did humans call it? Ah, yes: a panic attack. How unpleasant, he thought, then promptly fainted.


	11. Her Plan

Crowley squinted as he opened his eyes, holy light blinding him. He sat bolt upright, chains rattling, when he realized he was being watched.

“Awake, are we?” Gabriel asked, violet eyes boring into the spot where Crowley’s soul would have been, if he had one. “You know, I _really_ thought that little trick would work,” he said matter-of-factly. “No matter, I have many other tricks up my sleeve, as they say.” He made a vague gesture downwards, presumably towards earth and the humans that inhabited it.

“Can’t wait.” Crowley had tried his best to sound nonchalant, but his words came out with a weak croak, not unlike that of an ill frog.

Gabriel scowled. “Look,” he said, leaning down next to where Crowley was sitting on the floor. “All I need is for you to admit that you love that pathetic excuse of a principality. That is what made him immune to the hell fire, isn’t it? Your– love.” Gabriel spat out the word as if it were a sin, obviously missing the irony that he himself was an angel, made to love _all_ beings equally and unequivocally.

Crowley remained stoically quiet, save for raising a single eyebrow. So Gabriel really didn’t have so much as an inkling about the body-swap they’d done.

“Here’s the deal,” Gabriel said, standing up to his full height to tower high above the demon. “We were going to execute Aziraphale, but if you talk, his worthless, pathetic life will be spared. He will remain in Heaven for the rest of time, but he’ll be safe. Less paperwork for me, anyways.”

“Wait,” Crowley said. “Is that what you’re doing here? You’re trying to figure out how he was immune to hell fire so you could _kill_ him?”

“Uh, yeah,” Gabriel scoffed. “And we _will_ find a way. You know we will, demon. We will hunt him down, and we _will_ kill him. So might as well just give up now.”

Crowley’s stomach flip-flopped at the thought of Aziraphale being killed­—or worse—at Gabriel’s unmerciful hands.

“So if I talk, no harm comes to Aziraphale?” Crowley asked slowly.

“You have my word,” Gabriel said, a positively wicked smile spreading across his face.

******

“Where else could he be?” Amenadiel’s voice boomed throughout the small hotel room, echoing off the walls and jolting Aziraphale back to consciousness.

“If he is there, he really would be dead then,” said another voice. Maze, Aziraphale thought.

“Beelzebub assured me, he is very much alive.” Lucifer this time.

“Are– you sure?” Aziraphale asked weakly as he struggled to sit up.

Chloe rushed to his side, helping him up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. The conversation ceased and the room fell into an eerie silence.

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale repeated, words stronger this time. “That he’s still alive?”

Amenadiel stepped towards Aziraphale. “I am quite sure, yes. I may have been gone from Heaven for awhile, but I know my brother.”

“You think he’s– in _Heaven?_ ” Aziraphale asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Amenadiel said.

“And you’re sure he’s alive?”

“Yes.”

Tears of relief prickled at Aziraphale’s eyes. “Thank Go– Thank Someone.”

“I’ll leave right away,” Amenadiel said. “It’s best if I go alone.”

Maze opened her mouth, but snapped it shut as soon as she saw Lucifer’s glare directed her way. Her knives whooshed through the air as she twirled them faster.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale breathed.

Amenadiel nodded, unfurling his wings and taking off with a single beat.

******

Upon his arrival in Heaven Amenadiel found that a small, out-of-the-way section had been miracled—for simplicities sake, it was quite similar to a bubble, made so that no angels would be able to sense the demonic presence of Gabriel’s prisoner. But Amenadiel was not like the other angels; he knew exactly what he was looking for and it certainly didn’t hurt that he remembered all of Gabriel’s favorite places from the beginning of creation.

It didn’t take long for Amenadiel to find his way into the room Crowley was being kept in. Gabriel stood, towering above the demon with his back to Amenadiel.

“No harm comes to Aziraphale?” Amenadiel heard the demon ask.

“You have my word,” Gabriel replied. Amenadiel could hear the sneer laced in the angel’s voice.

“Enough brother,” Amenadiel’s voice boomed throughout the small room. “This ends now.”

Gabriel spun away from Crowley, eyebrows raised in shock. “Amenadiel. How did you find us?”

“I know you,” Amenadiel replied, giving Gabriel an intense, steely glare. “Release him, Gabriel.”

“Oh, come now. You’re not really going to defend a… _demon,_ are you?” Gabriel asked, his voice laced with pure disgust.

“This is not a part of God’s plan.”

“What do you know about God’s plan? You have been gone for _years_.”

“I know enough. And I’m telling you, this is not it.”

“I have vowed to carry out the Great Plan,” Gabriel argued.

“Yes, maybe so, but what of the Ineffable Plan, brother?”

Gabriel paused before speaking again. “And what do you know of _that?_ God tells no one of the Ineffable Plan.”

“Not even his favorite son?” Amenadiel countered.

“Oh please. You’ve been gone from Heaven for so long, you know nothing of _Her_ Plan,” Gabriel said, emphasizing the fact that God had been referred to as ‘her’ for a while now—something Amenadiel obviously was not aware of.

“Would you like to bet on that, Gabriel?”

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, then promptly shut it again. He would not, in fact, like to bet on it. Crowley’s chains rattled behind him as the demon shifted positions, trying to relieve his skin from the burning floor.

“Perhaps this _is_ the Ineffable Plan, Gabriel. Maybe that’s the whole point. Why God would let a demon and an angel work together. Perhaps that was the plan all along. And maybe that’s why _you_ are doing the same.” Amenadiel raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Gabriel began to fidget nervously. “It’s not the same,” he countered.

“Isn’t it? Release him,” Amenadiel demanded, the authority of God audible in his voice.

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at the demon that lay in a boneless heap on the heavenly floor. He had been so close: to finding out how Aziraphale had survived hell fire, how the demon had survived holy water. So close to…well, close to pleasing Beelzebub. Which was something he _wanted_ to do. He shivered at the thought. An angel pleasing a demon? Preposterous.

Being slightly shocked and completely stunned by this newfound revelation, Gabriel found he could only nod his head in affirmation.

“Very good,” Amenadiel said, striding past Gabriel to where Crowley lay.

The chains clinked as they released the demon’s wrists and dropped to the ground with an air of absolute finality. Crowley blinked warily as Amenadiel helped him to his feet.

They shuffled towards the door-shaped hole in the middle of one of the walls that radiated blinding, ethereal light. Gabriel watched them go with a spiteful glare so piercing, it likely would have cut straight through their bodies had they not been divine beings.

Once they’d made it out of the room, Amenadiel wasted no time in gathering Crowley up into his arms and flying them both back towards earth.

******

Back in the small hotel room which was home to an alarming amount of mold, Aziraphale sat perched on the edge of the bed: the same place he’d been for the past…however long it had been since Amenadiel left. Hours if not days surely must have passed by now, but one glance at the old, scratched up clock on the wall told him otherwise; only a mere number—forty-three, to be exact—of seconds had passed since he’d last checked. He glared at the clock with as much loathing as he could muster. If, when he rose to begin pacing around the room, there was only a dark, charred patch on the wall where the clock had once sat, no one seemed to notice.

When they heard a loud _whoosh_ from just outside the door, everyone—angel, human, and demon alike—paused, all simultaneously holding their breath. Lucifer stepped forwards, the door creaking ominously as he swung it open to reveal Amenadiel, just folding his wings away. Aziraphale peered around the angel, expecting to see Crowley. When the demon was nowhere to be seen, Aziraphale’s stomach lurched: perhaps they had all been wrong. Maybe Crowley really was dead and Aziraphale would never see him again and oh, he never got to tell him how much he lov–

Amenadiel pulled back the edge of his sweater to reveal a small, black snake with eyes that glowed the most beautiful golden colour.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed reverently, his relief evident as he stepped forward to gently take the snake into his arms, holding Crowley close.

“Thank God,” Chloe said, letting out a long breath of relief.

“Don’t thank God,” Lucifer scoffed.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said to Amenadiel. He was so overcome with joy to be reunited with Crowley and so grateful to Amenadiel for the large part he played in his rescue, he very briefly considered kissing the angel.

“Why hasn’t he turned back?” Maze asked, gesturing to the snake, who’d coiled around Aziraphale’s arm and buried his face into the angel’s neck.

“He needs time,” Amenadiel said, not eager to go into details of Crowley’s traumatizing entrapment.

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “He probably needs rest.”

“Come on,” Chloe said, gesturing to her car waiting just outside the hotel room. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“We’re all going,” Lucifer said. No one bothered to argue with him.

All six of them piled into Chloe’s car and they headed off to Aziraphale’s bookshop.


	12. Heaven would be Hell without you

With a few protective miracles placed on the bookshop and an angel, demon and the Devil himself on high alert pacing around inside, Aziraphale finally felt safe enough to let Crowley roam around on his own, though he never slithered far from Aziraphale’s side. Needing something to occupy his hands, the angel decided to make tea, just in case Crowley might want some once he returned to his human form.

“Is he okay?” Chloe whispered, appearing in the kitchen behind Aziraphale.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, dear,” Aziraphale said, more to assure himself than Chloe.

Chloe nodded slowly, her mind trying to comprehend everything that had taken place over the last few days. “Will he– turn back?” she asked.

“Of course.” Aziraphale glanced warily at Crowley, who was currently trying to slither up his leg. “He probably just needs some rest,” the angel said, bending down to pick up the snake. Crowley promptly entwined himself around Aziraphale, burying his head deep into the neck of Aziraphale’s coat.

“Perhaps he wants some privacy,” Aziraphale suggested. “I’ll take him upstairs for a bit.”

Chloe nodded, reaching out to give the angel’s arm a reassuring squeeze before heading back into the main room of the bookshop.

******

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale said, gently stroking the snake’s head as he climbed the stairs. “I am so deeply sorry, dear. I should have been there. I should have protect–” His voice broke and he had to stop for a moment to avoid bursting into tears. Crowley nuzzled at his neck, as if to say ‘it’s okay, Angel.’

When Aziraphale reached his bedroom, Crowley untangled himself from the angel and started working his way down until he reached the floor. The snake grew in size until Crowley stood before Aziraphale, golden eyes downcast and unwilling to meet the angel’s.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked tentatively.

The demon stumbled forwards, collapsing into the angel’s arms and burying his face into the crook of his neck. If Aziraphale felt the shudders wracking through Crowley’s entire body like an earthquake or the wetness pooling on the shoulder of his shirt, he didn’t so much as mention it. Aziraphale held Crowley close until he stopped trembling, and then held him a bit longer, just for good measure.

“Crowley, dear, are you alright? Please, talk to me,” Aziraphale begged.

“’M fine now, Angel,” Crowley mumbled into the angel’s neck.

Aziraphale ran his hands down to Crowley’s wrists, gently trying to pry the demon away so he could see him. Crowley hissed, recoiling in pain the second the angel’s hands touched the burned skin of his wrists.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale questioned, reaching out for the demon. “What happened? What did they do to you?” he asked, voice shaking—whether it was from empathy or sheer anger, Aziraphale wasn’t sure.

Crowley dropped his head, eyes fixed on the floor with such intensity it began to quiver slightly in fear. He raised his arms reluctantly, his sleeves pulling up slightly to expose the raw skin of his wrists as he did so.

Aziraphale failed miserably in stifling a gasp as he took in the sight before him. He gently took the demon’s wrists, one in each of his trembling hands. He closed his eyes as Crowley’s skin healed miraculously, eyebrows furrowing together in concentration—if Crowley would have been entirely coherent, he certainly would have found this expression quite wonderfully adorable.

The physical wounds, Aziraphale could heal easily enough, but unfortunately, he couldn’t simply miracle away the scars left on Crowley’s mind. Only time would be able to heal those. Perhaps it was for this reason, or perhaps it was another reason entirely that led Aziraphale to lean forward and press his lips to the inside of Crowley’s wrist. The demon stilled, frozen into place like a picturesque marble statue. Aziraphale glanced up through his eyelashes, studying Crowley’s face in search of any sign that he should stop. The demon’s golden eyes were blown wide, his lips parted slightly in shock.

Crowley swallowed, afraid to move so much as an inch and risk ruining the moment. Aziraphale’s fingers softly caressed the newly healed skin on Crowley’s wrist before taking his other hand and bringing that one up to his mouth to press a soft kiss to, purposefully letting his lips linger longer than they had any right to.

“You should get some rest, dear,” the angel said, guiding Crowley to the bed.

“Ngk,” Crowley said eloquently.

Crowley was awfully quiet as the angel tucked him in. So quiet that it began to scare Aziraphale. The last time he’d seen the demon this quiet was after the Great Flood; he’d tried to save as many children as possible, but there hadn’t been enough time to reach all of them. Crowley hadn’t spoken for weeks afterwards and Aziraphale had stayed by his side, occasionally uttering a reassuring phrase or two, but for Crowley, the angel just _being_ there was enough. It was the longest time they’d ever spent together at one time—until the whole Antichrist situation, that is.

“Gabriel threatened you,” Crowley mumbled quietly. “I thought he’d kill you,” he said, words even quieter than before.

Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath, somehow not at all surprised by the notion.

“I’m here Crowley. And I’m fine,” Aziraphale reassured the demon.

Crowley nodded weakly, meeting the angel’s gaze for the first time since he’d been back. “He promised you’d be safe if I explained how we were immune to the holy water and hell fire. They’d just keep you locked in Heaven to ensure you couldn’t get into any trouble. But I didn’t tell them anything,” he said hurriedly. “Amenadiel got there first.”

“Oh, Crowley. They did all this to you just to find out how we avoided death?”

“Yep. Your lot did a lot worse than Hell would’ve done. Funny that, isn’t it?” Crowley said, a wry smile briefly flashing across his features. “I just wanted you to be safe,” he said, the words barely a whisper—had it not been for Aziraphale’s angelic hearing, he would not have heard them at all.

Crowley’s eyes began to glisten—most definitely _not_ with tears because demons absolutely did _not_ cry.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Aziraphale said, pulling the covers tightly around the demon. “Get some rest,” he urged.

Once Aziraphale was quite sure Crowley had fallen asleep, he quietly snuck out to get some tea, just in case Crowley wanted some when he woke up.

******

Aziraphale tip-toed back into his bedroom, taking care not to spill the piping hot tea he’d collected for Crowley. He miracled the floorboards as he moved across the room to ensure they didn’t creak and disturb the demon. Once he’d placed the tea on the nightstand he stopped, staring at Crowley: he looked so peaceful when he slept. His hair had flopped slightly over his face on one side, and before the angel could even register his movements, he found himself gently brushing the stray locks of hair away.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, sitting down next to the demon and gently taking his hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. “Earlier, you said I’d be fine. That I’d simply return to Heaven, but…that’s not true. Crowley,” he sucked in a deep breath, “Heaven would be Hell without you there.”

A small squeeze of his hand told the angel that Crowley had not, in fact been asleep and had heard the entirety of his deep-hearted confession.

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed.

A second gentle squeeze wordlessly told Aziraphale that while Crowley had heard everything he’d said, he was subsequently alright with it, and trying to assure him the admission of his innermost feelings was truly okay. Aziraphale let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in before sliding under the covers next to Crowley, making sure their hands didn’t separate for so much as a second.

And the angel and the demon—two of the most opposite forces in the world—fell asleep next to one another, each more at peace than they’d ever been before, even in all their years of existence.


	13. I could just kiss you

Aziraphale woke to find—much to his delight—Crowley snuggled up to his side, his arms snaked around his waist, legs entwined with his and his head nuzzled into the crook of his neck, holding him as closely as humanly possible. Aziraphale tentatively ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair causing him to purr into his neck, much like a cat would.

The angel couldn’t help himself, and a small smile slowly spread across his face, widening until it glowed like the sun itself.

“Oh,” Aziraphale exclaimed quietly, realizing with a start that his smile had, in fact, literally been lighting up his bedroom. A soft, ethereally warm glow radiated throughout the room, extending out to all four walls. Crowley let out a contented sigh, his breath delightfully warm against the angel’s neck. Perhaps the soft heat of the glow was warming the cold-blooded demon. The light originated—not from holiness—but from pure love, Aziraphale realized with a start.

“Oh,” he breathed again at the sudden revelation. 

Crowley stirred next to him, somehow managing to snuggle even closer to the angel. Since he seemed to enjoy it earlier, Aziraphale resumed running his fingers through the demon’s hair, pausing periodically to work out small knots that had formed in light of the events of the past few days.

Crowley let out a soft sigh. “G’ morning, Angel,” he mumbled, his lips tickling Aziraphale’s neck as he spoke.

“Good morning dear.” Aziraphale turned his head to press a soft kiss to the tip of Crowley’s nose, causing him to turn a lovely shade of crimson. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Much better,” Crowley murmured against the Angel’s skin. “Much better,” he repeated, reaching down to lace his fingers through the angel’s.

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale said, almost reverently as he turned his head once more, this time to rest his forehead against the demon’s. Crowley stilled to the point Aziraphale was sure he wasn’t breathing anymore. The angel let his eyes flutter shut, his nose brushing gently against the demon’s.

They remained like that for awhile longer, basking in their newly admitted love for one another.

******

_One week later_

The engine of the Bentley roared as she sped up to swerve around a small blue car, just narrowly missing a full-on collision with it. A chorus of horns erupted as the Bentley speed on, her passengers not disturbed in the slightest.

“No Angel, you didn’t,” Crowley managed to say through a fit of laughter.

“I did!” Aziraphale replied. He’d been telling Crowley about all of the ridiculous—albeit completely necessary—miracles he’d performed to avoid selling his books. Crowley was having an especially difficult time believing the most recent one. Aziraphale had supposedly miracled the pants right off a potential customer, forcing him to leave the book he’d wished to purchase in order to go home for a pair of pants. Crowley idly wished Aziraphale would miracle _his_ pants off—for an entirely different purpose though. Perhaps he would. Though neither had acknowledged it out loud, their relationship had changed drastically since Crowley had come back home to earth. The bookshop. Aziraphale. Perhaps–

“Crowley?”

Oh. Aziraphale had been speaking. Oops.

Crowley mumbled a series of eloquent syllables before remembering how to form coherent words. “Sorry, what was that Angel?”

“I said, it is quite nice to have an angel like Amenadiel on our side. I highly doubt Gabriel will go against his wishes.”

“Mmm,” Crowley hummed.

They slipped into a comfortable silence while the Bentley continued to weave through traffic in a way that would be considered highly dangerous had she not been under demonic influences.

Aziraphale let out a soft, absolutely _sinful_ sigh. Glancing out of the corner of his eye and around the rim of his sunglasses, Crowley caught the angel staring at him with a languid smile plastered across his face that looked like it had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

“What is it? You look ridiculous,” Crowley quipped, masking how endearing he found his Angel with humor—not because he had to anymore, but simply because he enjoyed the way Aziraphale’s eyebrows wrinkled slightly at the jest.

“It’s nothing dear.”

“Can’t be nothing,” Crowley said, his curiosity heightened even more by Aziraphale’s attempt to dodge the question. The demon raised his eyebrows in an ‘I’m waiting,’ gesture.

Aziraphale pursed his lips, pausing a moment before speaking. “It’s just– Well I’m so– I mean we don’t have to worry–” Aziraphale took a deep breath. “I’m happy,” he admitted.

“Happy?” Crowley echoed. “Yeah, so am I,” he said so quietly, it could barely be heard over the roar of the Bentley.

“Yes, well, I–” The angel’s eyes darted across the car to Crowley before retreating back to fix on a suddenly very interesting place on the dash of the car. “Crowley, dear, I’m so happy I could just– Well I could– I could just kiss you if you weren’t driving.”

Crowley’s brain short-circuited, causing the Bentley’s tires to screech as she tried to stay on the road in light of this new information. Exactly thirty-seven seconds later, Crowley’s brain resumed normal functions—more or less. The Bentley lurched as Crowley guided her sideways, abruptly dodging six lanes of traffic to pull over on the side of the road.

“What on earth are you doing, dear?” Aziraphale asked, confusion clearly written across his face.

“Not driving,” Crowley squeaked.

“Oh. Well in that case–”

Crowley nearly discorporated as Aziraphale leaned across the car and cupped the demon’s face, gently stroking his thumbs across Crowley’s cheeks. Crowley thought he might melt right into the seat. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows slightly in a silent question. _‘Is this okay?’_ Crowley’s brain somehow managed to make his body lean forwards until their noses brushed against one another. _‘Yes. A thousand times yes.’_

Aziraphale tentatively brushed his lips against Crowley’s and they were oh so soft and plush and _perfect_.

_“Wow,”_ thought the Bentley. She’d never seen them do _that_ before.

The angel deepened the kiss and Crowley clutched at Aziraphale’s lapel, desperately trying not to faint. Being divine beings, they didn’t technically need to breathe, so they kissed instead. Then they kissed some more. And more. And more still. They kissed until Crowley saw _stars_.

It wasn’t until later— _much_ later, judging by the darkness that had begun to fall on the streets of Soho—that they finally broke apart. Even though they’d kissed for what seemed like forever, it still wasn’t long enough for Crowley’s liking.

Aziraphale rested his forehead against Crowley’s, not willing to move too far away from him just yet. Not that Crowley minded.

After kissing the angel Crowley had a crush on for over six-thousand years for such a long period of time, his brain could only form one single coherent word.

“Angel.” It slipped from his lips like a prayer, reverently whispered in the dark, meant for only a single set of ears to hear. And they heard. They heard all the double entendres behind it: _I’ve waited so long for this, I want you, I need you, I love you._

“Care to continue this at the bookshop, dear?” Aziraphale asked, still short of breath he didn’t actually need from their intense bout of kissing.

Crowley nodded, the tip of his nose brushing against the angel’s cheek with the motion.


	14. You’re not safe

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed as he fell back against the soft sheets of his bed.

There was a loud _clack_ as Aziraphale tossed Crowley’s sunglasses across the room, presumably landing somewhere on the wooden floor. The demon lowered his body down until he was pressed entirely against the angel. He began to work his way down Aziraphale’s neck, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses.

Crowley was positively delighted to learn that he could make Aziraphale moan even more obscenely then he did when enjoying food.

The demon let out a long sigh as Aziraphale let his fingers wander into Crowley’s hair, combing through it and then– _Oh. Pulling_ on it. Crowley very quickly decided he liked that.

Crowley relished in the way Aziraphale squirmed beneath him as the demon slowly slid his hands lower. And lower. And low–

_CRASH._

They both jumped as the door to Aziraphale’s bedroom crashed open, nearly flying clean off its hinges. Aziraphale grabbed a handful of the covers and pulled them up to his chin. Crowley—still seeing stars from being kissed senseless—squinted dazedly at the intruding figure in their doorway.

“I knew it,” Maze said, biting her lip. “Please, do continue.”

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” Aziraphale demanded.

“Looks like I got here just in time,” she said, flashing a suggestive grin.

“Bloody hell, Maze get _out,_ ” Crowley growled. He was _not_ happy about being interrupted. He’d waited over six- _thousand_ years for this moment and he did _not_ want to wait another second.

Maze quirked an eyebrow at them, but refrained from saying anything further besides, “Lucifer needs you two. There’s been a…development.”

“And this _development_ required you to break into my bookshop?” Aziraphale asked irritatedly.

“Yes, actually.” Maze paused for a moment before adding, “you two weren’t being very quiet, either.”

“ _Get out,_ ” Crowley growled, well and truly provoked now. If he’d had clothes on, he would’ve forcibly removed Maze from the room himself.

Maze gave them a final, overly suggestive grin before turning on her heel and heading back down the steps.

Once they were sure she was downstairs, Aziraphale miracled the door shut, making sure that if it knew what was good for it, it would say that way. Crowley groaned and flopped back down onto the bed, burying his face into the angel’s neck. Aziraphale pressed his lips to the demon’s temple.

“Well dear,” Aziraphale said with an overdramatic sigh. “We’ve waited this long, what’s a few more hours?”

Crowley grinned weakly at the angel. As far as he was concerned, a few more hours would be hell.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley in for one last kiss. “I suppose we should go,” he said, sliding out of bed to start searching around the room for his clothes. Crowley smiled at the lovely view he was suddenly greeted with—Aziraphale did have the most splendid bottom.

******

When they finally arrived back at the dilapidated hotel, they found Amenadiel pacing back and forth across the room. The ancient floor creaked as if it were in imminent danger of falling apart. Perhaps it would.

Amenadiel paused as his eyes came to rest on Crowley and Aziraphale where they stood just inside the doorway. “You’re not safe,” he said, resuming his incessant pacing.

“What do you mean, not safe?” Aziraphale asked. “You spoke with Gabriel. Sorted everything out.” A pause. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, I mean I did talk to him. But I’ve been sensing large waves of power—Gabriel’s power—coming from Heaven. I must have misjudged. I have been away from Heaven for a long time.”

“Fuck,” Crowley hissed as not-so-pleasant memories surfaced of his last encounter with Gabriel. Almost immediately, Aziraphale’s fingers were entwined with his own, giving an encouraging squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Amenadiel said, turning to face Aziraphale and Crowley. “This isn’t over.”

“And just what do you propose we do now, brother?” Lucifer asked mockingly.

“All I know is that whatever less-than-righteous plan my brother has in store must be stopped. No one—perhaps not even humanity—will be safe until we do so.”

“Right, and h– how do you propose we do that?” Aziraphale asked, his voice squeaking slightly more than he’d care to admit.

Amenadiel’s silence was answer enough for Crowley, who promptly lunged towards the angel, fangs bared in a more-than-successful attempt to look menacing.

“They _cannot_ come after us again,” Crowley snarled. “Do you know what they did to me up there? I won’t let them do that to him!” His arm flailed wildly, gesturing in the general direction of Aziraphale.

“I’ll be alright, dear,” Aziraphale tired to assure Crowley.

Unfortunately, after suffering through a multitude of trauma at Gabriel’s hands, Crowley was long past the point of hearing. Without thinking, he morphed into snake form, leaping forwards, eyes focused on his target: Amenadiel’s neck. His fangs were mere inches away from the angel’s neck when Aziraphale snapped his fingers, sending snake-Crowley crumpling to the floor.

Chloe gasped. “What did you do?”

“He’s having a nap, dreaming of wonderful thoughts. Just a small miracle,” Aziraphale explained. “He should be awake in an hour or so.”

“Right,” Chloe mumbled, looking decidedly dazed.

“Thank you, Aziraphale,” Amenadiel said.

Maze rolled her eyes.

“So,” Aziraphale said. “What’s the plan?”

******

“You want to _what?_ ” Crowley asked.

He’d been awake for a total of eighty-two seconds—yes, he’d counted—and he’d been told one of the most ridiculous plans he’d ever heard. That was including Hastur’s plan to have toads overthrow humans and take leadership of the world back in the fourth century.

“We’re going to break into Heaven,” Aziraphale clarified. “We’ve got it all figured out. Piece of cake, really.”

Crowley really wished he could go back to sleep.

******

“Ready?” Amenadiel asked. “We leave in five minutes.”

“You should’ve just let me kill them in the first place. Maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess then,” Maze huffed, her eyes flashing with such anger, it was a wonder she hadn’t stabbed anything yet. Chloe clung to Lucifer like a life raft; like he was the only thing that could save her from drowning. Crowley held Aziraphale’s hand tighter.

“Violence is not always the best answer, Mazikeen,” Amenadiel chastised.

“But it always works,” Maze snarled.

“Now is really _not_ the time to argue,” Aziraphale wailed.

Maze uttered a string of wildly colourful curses under her breath. “Take me with you,” she demanded.

“You know we can’t do that,” Amenadiel reminded her.

“Consecrated ground,” Crowley mumbled. “If that burns, imagine what the holiest of holy ground feels like.”

Despite being a bad-ass demon, if she did say so herself, Maze barely managed to suppress a shudder at the thought.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Chloe said, clutching at Lucifer’s sleeves. Her hands were most certainly going to leave wrinkles in his Prada suit, yet he paid no attention to them.

“I’m the Devil, darling. I can take care of myself,” he assured her, pulling her in for a kiss that, under normal circumstances, would have made any onlooker blush.

“Stay,” Crowley whispered so quietly Aziraphale barely heard it.

“Crowley, I–”

“Please,” the demon croaked, his voice breaking. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll be back, dear. I promise,” Aziraphale assured him, stroking his thumb across Crowley’s cheek. “It’s time I stood up to Gabriel. I won’t allow him to hurt you anymore, I–” The angel couldn’t hold back his tears any longer and they began to stream down his face. Crowley stepped forwards, tentatively wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s waist and pulling him close. He’d be damned—more so than he was already—if he was going to let his Angel be upset alone.

“The power, it’s getting stronger. We need to leave _now._ ” Amenadiel urged. There was a loud _pop_ and a rush of wind through the hotel room as his wings emerged, pearlescent and gleaming, as if they’d been cut from thousands of gems. Chloe reluctantly let go of Lucifer and he followed suit, his wings unfurling onto the earthly plane of existence.

With a small sniffle that Crowley was sure only he could hear, Aziraphale removed himself from the demon’s arms and released his wings. Crowley thought they were quite beautiful, really. It was all rather bitter-sweet, given the circumstances.

Amenadiel and Lucifer were gone with a single flap of their wings. Aziraphale met Crowley’s wide, golden eyes one last time before he followed the other angels, leaving nothing but a rush of cold air in his wake.

******

The flight to Heaven was a quick one, and Amenadiel was easily able to lead Lucifer and Aziraphale to the small section where Gabriel had been keeping Crowley. The bubble—which was conveniently impervious to all celestial magic—that Gabriel had miracled when he was keeping Crowley captive was still intact, allowing two angels and the Devil himself to sneak through into Heaven completely undetected.

Aziraphale shuddered as he took in the room Crowley had been held in. The demon still hadn’t opened up to Aziraphale about what he’d endured whilst being held captive. Aziraphale was almost glad he’d never heard—he wasn’t certain he would be able to stop himself from discorporating the offending angel. Permanently.

Upon their arrival, it became clear quite quickly that Gabriel was nowhere to be found. The room was completely empty, without a single trace of celestial magic, meaning no one had been there for quite some time.

“I don’t understand,” Amenadiel said, turning in a circle to take in the room, as if that would somehow answer all his questions. “I _felt_ his magic. Coming from here. I’m sure of it.”

“Well he’s not here now,” Lucifer said with a sneer, eyeing his surroundings warily. He was _not_ enjoying his return to Heaven.

“But you felt it,” Aziraphale said. “He must be here somewhere.”

“He’s not.”

“But he has to–”

“Do you feel anything? His presence?” Amenadiel questioned.

“N– no I don’t,” Aziraphale said with resignation. “But what where you feeling then? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Unless he _wanted_ you to feel it,” Lucifer offered. “What if it was a mere trick. A deception?”

Amenadiel’s eyes widened in sudden understanding, the fury of God burning behind them.

“But why would he want us to think he was here?” Aziraphale asked.

“Chloe,” Lucifer breathed.

Without further explanation, he was gone in a flash of feathers.

“Wha–?” Aziraphale started.

“God help us,” Amenadiel breathed. “He’s gone after the others. He wanted us gone. He–”

Aziraphale had stopped listening, his mind reeling.

He barely had time to utter “Crowley,” before he was plummeting back to the earth.


	15. Run

Crowley was long past the point of feigned nonchalance and was currently pacing the room as though his life depended on it, all aspects of dignity thrown out the window as far as they could possibly go.

“What’s taking so _bloody long?_ ” he growled at nothing in particular. He wished he had his plants here. He would very much like to do some productive yelling and screaming.

“I’m sure they’re just fine,” Chloe said, more to herself than anyone else.

“Damn it.” Maze’s knife made a loud _thunk_ as she stabbed the wooden table. “I should’ve gone.”

Crowley was so filled with worry—something no demon was ever supposed to feel—he nearly exploded.

The wood of the table audibly splintered as Maze yanked her knife out of it only to plunge it back in again with another _thunk,_ this one somehow even louder than the last as it reverberated throughout the small hotel room.

“Fuck,” Crowley hissed through his teeth as his pacing quickened.

Chloe dragged her fingers through her hair. Chewed at her lip. Contemplated screaming, then decided against it.

“I’m going for a walk,” Maze announced, striding towards the door.

“Maze,” Chloe warned. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Relax, Decker,” Maze snarled. “Just a walk.”

Although Chloe didn’t look convinced, she let her go. The thin walls of the hotel room quivered as the door slammed behind Maze, seemingly threatening to fall down at the slightest whisper of air.

“I’m scared,” Chloe whispered into the deafening silence that had consumed the room, looking up at Crowley with big, blue eyes.

Crowley paused his pacing for a moment to say softly, “yeah, me too.”

“I just wish–” Chloe startled at a rapping at the door.

“Maze,” she let out a long sigh as she moved to open the door. “Why are you back so soo–”

Chloe screamed.

In the doorway was a demon, but certainly not the demon she’d been expecting to see.

“Human,” Beelzebub sneered, pushing open the door and barging into the room. Gabriel followed closely on the demon’s heels.

Crowley snatched Chloe, pulling her behind him where it really wasn’t much safer, although he supposed it was better than nothing.

“Get. Out,” he seethed.

“No, I don’t think so,” Gabriel said with a wicked smirk plastered across his face.

The angel snapped his fingers and the door obediently slammed shut, effectively entrapping them in the hotel room.

The flies around Beelzebub’s head buzzed more violently until they were swarming around the demon in a wild blur. The demon grinned a maniacal, unhinged smile. Chloe nearly threw up.

“What do you want with us?” Crowley demanded, schooling his voice to sound far more steady than his trembling legs felt.

“It’zz zzimple, really,” Beelezbub purred wickedly.

“We want you,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly as he finished the demon’s sentence.

Crowley opened his mouth to speak, but was instantly silenced by a startling _bang bang bang._ He turned to find Chloe wielding her gun, aimed directly at Gabriel.

The angel stumbled backwards a few steps, took a moment to compose himself, then flashed them a predatory grin as he snapped his fingers. The gun in Chloe’s hands disintegrated, falling to the floor in a shower of fine dust.

“Oh no,” Chloe breathed.

“Run,” Crowley said as he shoved her towards the door.

He grabbed whatever was nearest to him—a chair—and hurled it at the angel. It splintered against Gabriel, but didn’t appear to faze him at all. It was as though Gabriel was a mountain and Crowley had just thrown a feather at him.

He lifted a hand to miracle Chloe as far away as possible, but Gabriel was quicker, knocking him to the floor with a blinding flash of lightening. Crowley tried to get to his feet but he felt as though he’d just been run over by a very large, very angry rhinoceros. He stumbled, falling to his knees. He vaguely heard a loud _crack_ as a wave of pain rippled through the back of his head. He thought he heard someone screaming, but it was impossible to tell over the intense ringing in his ears. His vision blurred and he fell to his stomach.

“D– don’t do– this,” he managed to slur.

His glasses were yanked roughly from his face in response and he heard them crack under the weight of what he presumed was a foot of demonic origin.

The last thing Crowley heard was Chloe’s frantic screams.

******

Aziraphale landed with a _thud_ in a wildly ungraceful pile of limbs on the hard concrete just outside the door of the hotel room. Lucifer—ever with a flare for the dramatic—tucked his wings in and then proceeded to kick in the door rather than just using the handle. Aziraphale thought it rather absurd, but if it was possible that Crowley was in imminent danger, who was he to complain?

Aziraphale followed Lucifer into the hotel. A slight breeze and _whoosh_ followed by the sound of footfalls from behind him told the angel that Amenadiel had kept up with them and was trailing them into the room. Aziraphale’s eyes widened as they darted around the room in a panic.

“Crowley?” he called out. “Crowley!”

“Chloe!” Lucifer shouted.

“Oh no,” Amenadiel whispered.

“Son of a _bitch_!” Lucifer shouted and kicked a chair across the room with such force that it lodged itself rather unfortunately into a wall.

“Crowley– oh no,” Aziraphale breathed. He couldn’t _feel_ Crowley. Not again. He _promised._ He told Crowley he’d protect him.

Aziraphale whirled around to face Amenadiel. “We have to find them,” he insisted.

Lucifer didn’t give Amenadiel so much as a chance to open his mouth before his fist landed a punch squarely to the angel’s jaw. Despite Amenadiel being supposedly stronger than Lucifer, the blow sent him stumbling backwards, sending him into shock long enough for Lucifer’s fist to strike again. The mighty angel fell with great force to the floor, blood glistening where the flesh on his cheek had been split open by his brother’s fist.

Before Aziraphale was even able to register what was going on, Lucifer had Amenadiel pinned to the floor, hitting him over and over in an endless assault driven by the sheer raging panic of his emotions. Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, willing the sickening sounds of the brawl into silence. He couldn’t take this. Not now. Not when Crowley was– There was a loud crash as a lamp was knocked off the small side table, sending it to the floor where it shattered into hundreds of tiny shards. Funny that, Aziraphale thought—the broken lamp was a bitter personification for his heart. The angel jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding Amenadiel as Lucifer sent him soaring across the room. The wall crumbled under his weight as the mighty angel collided with it, creating a sizeable hole that would not be simple in any regard to explain the origin of to the hotels owner.

Lucifer’s long stride carried him swiftly across the room to hover over Amenadiel. He hoisted him up by the front of his t-shirt with one hand. The angel made no move to fight back.

“This is all your fault,” Lucifer seethed. “If Chloe is–” He sucked in a breath. “If anything happens to her, _brother,_ you will wish I killed you here.”

“Lucifer, this–” Amenadiel let out a low groan as Lucifer’s fist connected with his stomach, his other hand still firmly grasped on his shirt, holding him in place.

Lucifer’s eyes burned red, the flames of Hell blazing wildly with rage behind them. He let out a deep, menacing growl that would have certainly made any human faint with fear. “I will–”

“Enough!” Aziraphale shouted with all the authority he could muster.

Lucifer’s fiery gaze turned to him, threatening to bore into his very being. Aziraphale stared back, unwavering.

“Enough,” he repeated firmly. “This–” he waved a hand between the two brothers, “–is not helping anyone. We need to focus on finding them. Together.”

Lucifer reluctantly released Amenadiel with a snarl, the embers in his eyes slowly dying until only the deep brown of his irises remained.

“You two should be ashamed of yourselves. Crowley, Chloe, and Maze are out there somewhere. And they need us. But here you two are engaged in some pathetic childish fight!”

“Now focus,” Aziraphale demanded. “Where would Gabriel take them?”

All eyes slowly turned to Amenadiel.

The angel cleared his throat and spitefully adjusted his clothing. He closed his eyes, crinkles forming across his forehead as he poured all his divine energy into focusing on finding Gabriel’s celestial essence. He steepled his fingers as though he was praying. Perhaps he was.

The room fell into a deafening silence. Aziraphale’s divinity nearly vibrated right out of his corporation. Lucifer began pacing around the room, his shoes causing the broken glass of the lamp to crunch obnoxiously with every lap.

“Maze is with them. She’ll keep them safe,” Lucifer said, though it was unclear who, if anyone, he was talking to. “Actually, I’d say I’m rather sorry for their kidnappers,” he mused, though his eyes said otherwise. He was worried.

This only caused Aziraphale to worry more. Gabriel had done positively _awful_ things to Crowley the first time he’d captured him. Crowley had refused to talk much about it. Aziraphale could only imagine what he had planned for Crowley this time around—quite frankly, he wished he _couldn’t_ imagine it.

“I’ve got it,” Amenadiel announced suddenly.

“Where?” Lucifer asked. “Where are they?”

Amenadiel’s brow crinkled. “It seems they’re no longer on earth. But they’re also not in Heaven. Or Hell. They’re– nowhere.”

“Nowhere?” Aziraphale echoed worriedly.

“How can they bloody be _nowhere?_ ” Lucifer asked irritatedly.

“No, think about it,” Aziraphale said. “It makes sense. We’d never think to look for them there– nowhere– you know what I mean.” He remembered when Crowley pulled him into another universe not that long ago, before they’d met Lucifer. Perhaps it wasn’t all that outlandish to assume Beelzebub and Gabriel had done the same.

Lucifer scowled.

“I’m sure of it,” Amenadiel insisted. “I felt an energy surge. It has to be them.”

Aziraphale’s wings made a _popping_ sound as they manifested into existence.

“Let’s go then, we’ve no time to waste.”


	16. Thank Someone

Chloe felt _awful._ Her head was pounding something fierce, and her stomach churned violently, making her feel like she was about to be sick. Everything felt inexplicably _wrong._ The world around her was bright, yet dark. Spinning yet still. Hot yet cold. There was ground, yet there wasn’t. The air shimmered and rippled with colours that the human mind couldn’t even begin to imagine—if it were any other human, they’d have certainly been driven mad by the sheer beauty of it.

Chloe lifted her head a fraction, glancing around her. She saw Crowley’s fiery red hair to one side and the edge of Maze’s face to the other side. From what she could tell through her blurred vision, they were still alive. An intense wave of nausea washed over her, nearly drowning her and threatening to pull her under. Spots appeared around the edges of her vision, forcing her to drop her head and tuck her body in on itself.

She felt as though she didn’t actually exist—this was all just an awful dream that would soon be over. But at the same time, it was all too real. Her senses were overwhelmed, yet she felt an unusually calming sense of peace. It was rather what she’d always imagined dying would feel like. Despite all this—through all the uncertainty—somehow she knew she wasn’t dying. Not yet, anyways.

Somewhere in the abyss, an angel and a demon laughed manically, the pure evil of the sound resonating through the nothingness that surrounded them.

******

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Gabriel asked, surprising both Beelzebub and himself with the sudden concern he felt towards the demon’s well-being.

Beelzebub’s hand flew away from the brilliantly deep purple-blue colouring that had settled quite unpleasantly under the demon’s right eye.

Beelzebub’s eyes narrowed at the archangel. “Zzzince when do you care?”

“I don’t,” Gabriel clarified, though if he was being honest with himself—which he wasn’t—he did care a tad more than he ought to have cared, especially when it came to a _demon._

“Right. Zzhe put up more of a fight than I’d expected,” Beelzebub remarked.

Gabriel winced at the mere image his mind supplied of the moment they’d surprised Maze­—or at least they’d _thought_ they had. It had quickly become evident that such was not the case. Yet, the element of what little surprise they actually achieved along with powers pulled from Heaven had thankfully eventually subdued the terrifying demon. It was not a fight Gabriel wished to relive again, nor one he would ever acknowledge.

“Well, no matter, we have them here. Now do you have a plan, or not?” Gabriel demanded, crossing his arms as he towered over Beelzebub.

“ _We_ will think of zzomething,” the demon buzzed. “You weren’t zzzupozzed to let the demon Crowley go in the firzzt place.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Gabriel said unconvincingly, throwing his arms up into the air like a child being scolded for something they didn’t do.

The demon’s eyes rolled, the incessant buzzing of the flies increasing in both volume and fervor.

“You got uzz into thizz mezzz. Now you zzhould be the one to get uzzz out of it,” Beelzebub seethed.

Gabriel held up a hand. “Shh. I’m thinking.”

The demon glared angrily at the angel’s hand, but fell silent all the same.

******

Crowley groaned, his head pounding something fierce. He pulled himself up off the ground until he was in a somewhat sitting position, ignoring the blaringly loud protests from his sore limbs. He blinked a few times until his vision was mostly not blurry and took note of his surroundings—they definitely weren’t on earth, or in Heaven, or Hell. He very quickly decided that they must be in some sort of halfway dimension, similar to the one he’d transported himself and Aziraphale to in order to avoid Beelzebub and Gabriel in Berkeley Square Garden.

He crawled over to where Chloe lay on the ground, giving her a gentle shake. She stirred instantly, hands clutching at her head and her eyes screwed tightly shut. Crowley snapped his fingers—though later he would never admit he’d just done a _kind_ thing for a _human_.

Chloe let out a small sigh of relief, tentatively opening her eyes. Crowley helped her to a sitting position before moving on to wake Maze. Thinking ahead, Crowley made sure he carefully removed both of her knives, passing them off to Chloe for safe keeping—not that Maze still wouldn’t be able to hurt him, but hopefully she wouldn’t kill him this way.

He took a deep breath before giving her shoulder a gentle shake.

“Maze,” he whispered, hating the way his words trembled as they left his lips. “Maze,” he repeated, shaking a bit harder.

Before Crowley could say ‘bebop,’ he was staring up a very angry demon. It was a good thing he didn’t need to breathe, because he currently wasn’t able to, having found his throat trapped between the ground and Maze’s arm. She had somehow managed to pin down the rest of his body and Crowley silently thanked Someone that he’d had enough sense to take away her knives.

“Maze,” Chloe admonished. “Let him go.”

Maze blinked. She looked around for a moment before pinpointing where Chloe’s voice was coming from. She narrowed her eyes at Crowley before slowly climbing off of him.

“You okay?” she asked Chloe, quickly checking her over for any serious injuries.

“’M fine.”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine too, thanks for asking,” Crowley mumbled under his breath, rubbing absentmindedly at his throat.

Maze’s fiery gaze was on Crowley in an instant, threatening to incinerate him with a single look. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Crowley squeaked.

“Maze,” Chloe tugged at the demon’s arm.

“Where the hell are we?” she asked, glancing around at the nothingness that surrounded them.

“Not sure,” Crowley said. “Looks like some kind of alternate dimension.”

“Hmm,” Maze hummed.

“So– not earth?” Chloe asked quietly.

“Not earth,” Crowley confirmed with a nod.

“You might want these back, then,” Chloe said, passing Maze her knives.

Maze scowled at Crowley, her knives making a _whooshing_ noise as they spun around her fingers with inhuman like speed.

******

Aziraphale landed with Lucifer at one side, Amenadiel at his other. He was honestly surprised they’d been able to keep up—he hadn’t flown that fast in– ever, really.

Amenadiel made a sound that was halfway between a hum and a gasp. Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

“Are they here, or not, brother?” Lucifer asked impatiently.

“Yes, I can feel them,” Amenadiel assured them. “It’s this way.”

They set off surrounded by a deafening silence, pressing closer with every step.

It didn’t take long before they came upon an angel and a demon—not exactly the ones they were searching for though.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from hissing through his teeth.

“Shh,” Amenadiel hushed him. “We need a plan–”

“Hello,” Lucifer called out, an all-too charming grin spread widely across his face.

Gabriel jumped, eyes widening in pure terror at the sight of the Devil Himself standing before him. Beelzebub physically flinched.

Amenadiel ran a hand down his face before schooling his expression and stepping forward, pulling himself up to his full, intimidating height.

“What the _hell_ is this?” Gabriel demanded, flailing his arms madly between Lucifer and Amenadiel and back to Lucifer again.

“Hello to you too, _brother,_ ” Lucifer purred.

“Where are they?” Amenadiel asked.

“Who?” Beelzebub said. The flies had all seemed to collect behind the demon’s head, hiding from view.

“You know who,” Aziraphale shouted. “That’s enough! Release them at once.”

Gabriel let out an amused little snort. “Doesn’t really seem like you’re in any position to be giving the orders here, does it?”

Lucifer took a swift six strides forwards, ending up face to face with Gabriel. The angel shrunk back until he was nearly cowering on his knees behind Beelzebub.

Beelzebub gulped. “Zzzir,” the demon addressed Lucifer.

“You,” he seethed. “You were supposed to keep Hell in order while I was away, not start the end of the bloody world!”

Lucifer shook his head. “I’ll deal with you later.”

He reached around the demon and effortlessly picked up Gabriel by the collar of his shirt. He made a helpless squealing sound as his feet kicked around, dangling far above the ground.

Lucifer’s eyes turned red, effectively terrifying the angel even further. “Where. Are. They,” he growled. It was not a question.

“I– we– I,” Gabriel stuttered, seemingly not able to form a coherent word under the Devil’s stare.

Amenadiel stepped forward, placing a strong hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. Lucifer wordlessly dropped Gabriel into a heap on the ground, slowly taking a few steps backwards until he was standing beside Amenadiel and Aziraphale once again.

“Gabriel, just tell us where they are,” Amenadiel said, the power of God Herself dripping from every single word.

Beelzebub sneered. “Why do you want them zzzo badly anywayzz?”

The demon turned to Aziraphale this time before continuing to speak. “What doezz that demon mean to you?”

Aziraphale drew himself up to his full height—that of which may not have been much, but was rather effective nonetheless.

“Why do _you_ want him so badly?” Aziraphale countered mockingly, using the exact words the demon had.

Beelzebub sneered, the buzzing of the flies intensifying to a rather terrifying volume.

“Do you love him, angel. Becauzzze that would be repulzzive,” the Lord of Flies taunted.

Aziraphale sent a sidelong glance to Amenadiel then Lucifer, respectively, before simply answering, “Crowley keeps me on my toes.”

Now, it is a very well known fact that angels are not supposed to lie. This, however, was not a lie; he only meant it in an entirely different way. Technically speaking, Crowley _did_ keep Aziraphale on his toes—it would be impossible for the angel to kiss him otherwise—Crowley, after all, was much taller than he, making his lips that much harder to reach.

“What?” Gabriel asked dumbfoundedly, a look of sheer and utter confusion plastered across his face.

Aziraphale directed a smug grin towards the angel that, under normal circumstances, would have been considered quite the sin.

“Gabriel, just give us–” Amenadiel started, but was abruptly interrupted by a frantic shouting.

“Aziraphale! Aziraphale!”

All five of them turned to pinpoint the source of the shouts. Through the multicoloured thin haze of nothingness, Aziraphale could see Crowley running—yes, actually _running_ ­—towards them, Maze and Chloe trailing closely behind.

Aziraphale clutched a hand to his chest. “Oh thank Someone,” he breathed in relief.


	17. Banished

Aziraphale suddenly found himself with an armful of Crowley, clutching at him as if he were a lifeline.

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, am now” Crowley mumbled into the angel’s neck.

Beside them, a similar occurrence was taking place between Lucifer and Chloe: Lucifer had protectively swept Chloe up into his arms, seemingly trying to shield her from the divine nature of the dimension.

In contrast of the two happy reunions, Maze glared briefly at Amenadiel before focusing intently on twirling her knives fiercely at her sides.

Once Lucifer and Aziraphale had released their respective partners, all attention turned back to Beelzebub and Gabriel, who were making absurdly child-like faces of disgust at the sudden displays of affection.

“Oh, fuck me,” Crowley muttered as his eyes landed on the duo, just realizing that they were there.

Aziraphale grinned wholeheartedly at Crowley. “Oh darling, I’d be delighted to, but we might finish this first–”

The sheer look of terror on Crowley’s face stopped Aziraphale in his tracks.

“Oh,” the angel said, colour rising up his neck to land in a deep red flush on his cheeks. “Oh my. That’s not what I– Oh dear. Terribly sorry.”

Beelzebub and Gabriel both turned a sickened, olive shade, looking as though they might be rapidly ill. Maze glared at Aziraphale. If he could have read her thoughts, they likely would have been something along the lines of _‘way too much information, get a fucking room.’_

Amenadiel cleared his throat. “We are leaving now, Gabriel,” he announced, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument. “Do not try to follow us. Do not come near us ever again, is that clear?”

Gabriel glanced at Beelzebub and they both broke out into the most wicked of grins.

“We made this dimension,” Gabriel said. “It is ours to control at our will, so no, I don’t believe you’ll be leaving anytime soon.” Gabriel gave them a mock pout before waving his hand.

A powerful wind suddenly surged up, lifting all of them upwards and entrapping them into what could best be described as a tornado of celestial origin.

Panic surged through Aziraphale as he was jostled around by the wild wind whipping about. He reached out, just barely managing to take Crowley’s hand in his, keeping them from getting separated.

After a few hasty miracles from Aziraphale and Crowley, they’d managed to create a bubble of sorts for all six of them to take shelter in. The wind still howled around them, but at least they were in no danger of being swept away. The bubble allowed them just enough silence from the raging cyclone that if they shouted, they could talk to one another and formulate a way out.

“Don’t let your wings out,” Amenadiel thundered over the roar of the tornado. “They’ll be ripped clean off in this wind.”

Aziraphale shuddered at the mere thought.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Crowley asked.

“This is their dimension,” Lucifer explained. “I hate to admit it, but they’ve really outsmarted us. They can bend it completely to their will.”

“What do you mean?” Crowley’s voice was creeping higher in panic with every word.

“Celestial powers won’t work if they don’t want them to in here,” Lucifer gestured to their rather unfortunate surroundings.

“We can force our way out then,” Crowley suggested.

“They can stop us. The dimension will do anything they ask.”

“But– There has to be _some_ way out,” Crowley argued, unwilling to accept this as their fate.

Lucifer shook his head solemnly.

“We’ll find a way,” Crowley said, turning to search around their bubble for any sort of solution.

Aziraphale caught his arm. “I believe dear, what Lucifer is trying to say, is that we are well and truly fucked.”

Crowley was only able to register one word from that sentence. His brain short-circuited like an overloaded computer—had his angel just _cursed?_ Crowley felt a wide range of inexplicable emotions at the mere thought.

He blinked, feeling Aziraphale’s hand tug gently at his, slowly coaxing him back to reality.

“No way out,” he said, mind still partially trapped in a fog.

Aziraphale only shook his head sadly in affirmation. Crowley wished he could reach out to the angel and bring that lovely smile to his lips. But Crowley had nothing to offer now: they couldn’t get out. They were trapped. The finality of the words echoed over and over and over in his mind. Trapped—after all they’d been through, they were trapped.

“Um, guys?” Maze shouted from somewhere behind them.

“Ngk,” Crowley said, waving a dismissive hand in what he assumed was her direction. “Trying to process.”  
“No, I think–”

“Shh,” Crowley hissed, pulling Aziraphale closer. If they were going to die in here anyways, there was no point in walking on eggshells around Maze anymore—it might be better to die at her hands rather than Gabriel’s or Beelzebub’s, anyways.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, just loud enough so that only the demon could hear him. “I am truly grateful for the time we had. It was quite wonderful.” He smiled softly at Crowley then, his eyes shining like the brightest of the stars.

Crowley nearly _melted_ right there. He–

“Guys!” Maze shouted again, though she sounded angrier this time.

Another voice spoke—Chloe this time. “We found a way out!”

“What?” Aziraphale gasped.

“Huh?” Crowley asked eloquently, his brain desperately trying to catch up with the myriad of events unfolding.

Chloe rolled her eyes. Crowley was surprised she didn’t get dizzy from doing it so dramatically.

“It’s brighter here,” she said, pointing to a spot near the edge of their bubble.

“I told you they’re idiots,” Maze snarled.

If Aziraphale and Crowley had been at all competent, they might have noticed the divine light near the edge of the bubble. This, however, was not the case.

But indeed there was a spot that was brighter, shining with an ethereal light that hurt even the angel’s eyes if they stared for too long. Within seconds, they were all gathered around the light, taking turns studying it.

The light shone vibrantly, radiating its inexplicable warmth throughout the entire bubble. It shimmered as though it were the light of God Herself. Perhaps it was.

Amenadiel tentatively reached towards the light until his hand was completely engulfed in it.

“It is a way out. We can get out this way,” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

The light grew brighter, forcing everyone, angel and demon alike, to look away. It slowly enveloped Amenadiel until he had disappeared from the bubble altogether. One by one, the rest of them followed suit.

******

Gabriel’s eyes nearly popped right out of his skull when he saw their captives appear before them. Beelzebub’s expression was quite similar—the flies stopped buzzing altogether for a moment in utter shock.

“How–?” Gabriel’s jaw dropped open in surprise.

“It seems God doesn’t agree with your little plan after all, brother,” Amenadiel said, causing Gabriel to give him a hateful sneer.

“Thizzz doezzn’t mean you can leave though,” Beelzebub buzzed determinedly. “We zztill control thizzz dimezzion.”

“We are leaving one way or another,” Aziraphale said, drawing himself up to his full height.

He summoned his flaming sword and it obediently appeared before him, bright flames licking hungrily at the blade.

Lucifer’s gaze locked onto the blade Aziraphale was brandishing. “I have an idea,” he announced.

“Lucifer, is that–?” Maze asked.

“Yes, I believe so.” Lucifer held out his hand. “May I?”

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, who gave him a small nod, before handing the sword off to Lucifer. The second he touched the handle, the flames grew stronger and brighter. He studied the flaming blade in awe.

“Lucifer, that’s not–?” Amenadiel asked.

“I believe it is, brother. Looks suspiciously like it. Wonder if this one can cut through the universe too,” Lucifer said, reminded of the blade he used to send the Goddess of all Creation—his mother—to another universe.

Lucifer brought the sword down in a cutting motion, and sure enough, a gap in the universe opened up, unfolding like a piece of cloth.

With one swift motion, Amenadiel had Beelzebub’s arms pinned behind the demon’s back. Likewise, Maze had full-on tackled Gabriel to the ground and was holding him there as he whimpered.

With Crowley and Aziraphale’s help, it was surprisingly easy to shove both Gabriel and Beelzebub through the void. Lucifer sealed the portal and nonchalantly handed the flaming sword back to Aziraphale as though he hadn’t just banished a demon and angel to another dimension entirely.

“Time to go home?” he asked cheerfully.


	18. Entwined

They all bustled back into the small hotel room—which was going to require a fair amount of miracles lest it continue to look like a celestial wrestling match had taken place inside.

“Well that was anticlimactic,” Maze growled. Her fingers twitched where they rested around her knives. She looked like she was ready to stab someone—she probably was.

Chloe collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. She’d seen more celestial shit in the past few days than anyone could even hope to see in a lifetime.

“Alright?” Lucifer asked, worry etched in his brow as he moved to sit next to her.

She slipped her fingers through his and made a non-committal hum, which—given the way his entire body visibly relaxed—he seemed to take as a yes.

Maze restlessly paced the length of the room, her agitation at the lack of violence required made blatantly evident in the rhythmic stomps of her boots.

Aziraphale boldly entwined the fingers of his right hand with that of Crowley’s left. From the corner of his eye, he could see the edges of the demon’s mouth curl up slightly into a rather poorly masked smile.

“We’ll return first thing tomorrow morning to fix–” the angel gestured around at the remains of the hotel room. “–this. I think we all need some sleep right now.”

“Yes,” Crowley fervently agreed, his grip tightening on the angel’s hand.

“No need,” Lucifer argued. “I can take care of this.”

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale asked uncertainly.

“I’m Lucifer bloody Morningstar, I think I can handle this.”

“Fine by me,” Crowley mumbled.

Aziraphale turned to Amenadiel, Lucifer, Chloe, and lastly Maze in turn. “Thank you. All of you. Truly. Bless all of you,” he said, and upon seeing Maze’s deadly glare, hastily added, “but not you.” And then in his best ‘I’m an angel and you better do what I say’ voice added, “damn you, you filthy demon.”

Chloe giggled in a slightly hysterical manner from the bed because yes, this was, in fact her life now.

Once they’d said their final goodbyes, Crowley impatiently pulled Aziraphale to the door, both of them more than ready to put this portion of their lives behind them.

******

Hand in hand, Crowley and Aziraphale stepped out from the confines of the hotel room and slowly walked through the parking lot, taking in the presence of a world that had nearly ceased to exist—for the second time—and the blissfully unaware people that milled about their daily routines.

Aziraphale turned to Crowley to find the demon looking at him with the most goofy of grins spread across his face.

“What?” Aziraphale questioned.

“What?” Crowley echoed.

“You’re smiling.”

Crowley’s eyebrows rose above the darkened rims of his sunglasses.

“You’re a demon,” Aziraphale explained. “You’re not supposed to smile.”

“Why not? I’m happy,” Crowley stated.

Now it was the angel’s turn to allow a huge grin to break out across his face. “Me too.”

Crowley gave their intertwined hands a soft tug, pulling the angel that much closer until their shoulders bumped together in what should have been a most uncomfortable fashion. It was not.

******

Once safely back at the bookshop, Aziraphale collected some wine before situating himself next to Crowley on the couch—a couch that was suspiciously far more plush than he’d remembered it being. He eyed Crowley as the demon sunk into the cushions for a moment before turning his attention to his glass of wine.

They sat in familiar, companionable silence, nursing their drinks—which magically refilled themselves of their own accord. Well, mostly of their own accord.

Eventually, both angel and demon set their glasses down on the coffee table, the resounding clink of china against wood resonating throughout the bookshop. Neither of them were drunk, per se, but slightly tipsy? Yes.

Inhibitions deemed to be sufficiently lowered, Crowley silently shifted to lean into his Angel and nuzzle his face into the plush softness of his neck. He sighed contentedly. Aziraphale shivered as the warmth of his breath ghosted across his skin and Crowley snuggled even closer.

“I’m quite glad, you know,” Aziraphale said.

“Hmm?” Crowley hummed.

“I really thought Gabriel had–” Aziraphale broke off, his breath hitching.

Crowley sat up and gently yet firmly cradled his face between his hands. “I’m fine, Angel,” he assured him.

Aziraphale gave a small nod, unshed tears glistening in his grey-blue eyes.

Crowley tentatively kissed each one, in turn, then moved on to pepper kisses across the angel’s face until he was smiling once more. Crowley decided he quite liked it when Aziraphale smiled.

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, running a hand through Crowley’s fiery hair. “We’ve so much to talk about.”

Crowley cut him off with a chaste kiss before the angel could say anything further.

“Sleep first,” Crowley mumbled against Aziraphale’s lips.

“Mmm,” the angel hummed in agreement.

He pulled Crowley closer, and they fell into a much needed sleep entangled in the safest place they knew—each other’s arms.

******

In a place where the laws of space and time did not exist—nor did space and time themselves—an angel and a demon examined their newfound surroundings.

Gabriel looked at Beelzebub.

Beelzebub looked at Gabriel.

“Well this is shit,” Gabriel announced, glancing around perturbedly at their non-existent surroundings.

“Could be worzzze,” the demon buzzed.

Gabriel’s mouth fell open into an obnoxiously perfect ‘o’ shape. “How could this possibly be any worse? I’m stuck in here with a demon,” he said scornfully, though something in the tone of his voice hinted that he wasn’t as appalled by the thought of spending the rest of eternity with a demon as he should have been.

“Could have been a different angel,” Beelzebub pointed out.

“You mean– You’d rather– With me–?” Gabriel stuttered in confusion.

The demon’s eyes rolled in an overly exuberant manner before darkening as they locked onto Gabriel’s. It was not a sign of aggression, however, but something else entirely.

In a flash, Beelzebub’s hands were on Gabriel’s shoulders, leaving trails of heat in their wake despite the fact that the demon’s hands were as cold as ice. Rather than recoiling at the touch, Gabriel was quite thoroughly shocked to find himself leaning into it.

“Zzzee?” the Lord of Flies buzzed. “Not zzzo bad.”

“Guess it’s not so–” Gabriel didn’t have time to finish his sentence—Beelzebub had lunged forwards and smashed their lips together in a rather violently spontaneous kiss.

 _Not so bad, indeed,_ Gabriel thought as he pulled the demon closer.

******

Upon waking in the bookshop, Crowley and Aziraphale did what they best knew how to do: drink more wine. _Much_ more wine.

They soon fell into a wonderfully familiar pattern of slightly drunken banter.

“But dear, I _can_ do magic,” Aziraphale insisted.

“Ngk. You cannot,” Crowley argued.

“I can and you know it.”

“Cannot. Not without performing a miracle.”

Aziraphale looked positively scandalized. “I can too.”

“Without performing a miracle?” Crowley asked skeptically.

“Why yes, of course. I can make the impossible happen,” the angel said, lowering his voice as he climbed into Crowley’s lap.

Crowley raised an eyebrow above his sunglasses, eager to see where this was going. “Oh?” he asked, his hands moving instinctively to rest on the angel’s hips.

“I made a demon fall in love with me, didn’t I?” Aziraphale said softly, tenderly removing Crowley’s sunglasses. It was about time they both stopped hiding their feelings and dancing around the inevitable. Aziraphale had decided he would very much like to do this while looking into Crowley’s gorgeously golden eyes—eyes are, after all, said to be the windows to the soul.

“Ngh.” Crowley tipped forward to bury his face in Aziraphale’s neck.

A contented silence washed over the room, encompassing them.

“I love you, Angel,” Crowley whispered so quietly Aziraphale could barely even hear it. Perhaps Crowley hadn’t meant for him to hear it. But oh, he had heard it. He knew Crowley loved him, but he’d never expressed it in so many words. Or any words, really. “I don’t remember what it’s like to not be in love with you.”

“I love you too, Crowley,” Aziraphale mumbled into the demon’s hair, tears of sheer happiness leaking from the corners of his eyes.

He collected Crowley’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together in a kiss that he hoped would convey all the emotions that were currently running through his heart. Crowley moaned into the kiss, seemingly melting under Aziraphale’s touch.

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale said, pulling back slightly and placing his hands against the demon’s chest. “Is this a sin?” he asked, twirling one of Crowley’s shirt buttons between his fingers. “Because it feels like a sin.”

“Only the best kind, Angel,” Crowley whispered eyeing him warily, unsure of how best to proceed.

Aziraphale answered his unspoken question and leaned forwards, tentatively brushing his lips against Crowley’s again in what was the most cautious, yet passionate and loving kiss the world had ever known. It was a kiss that simply spoke volumes above what words could ever dream of.

And if they spent the rest of the night tangled in each others arms, well, that is a story for another day.

_~finis~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so happy to say that I’ve finally finished this! I had an absolute blast writing this! I just want to say thank you to everyone who stuck around and to everyone who left such wonderful comments on this. Thank you all so much! Until next time ❤️


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